


Among Deserts and Legends

by evilwearsabow



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series, Star Trek: The Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Enemies to Lovers, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Mild Gore, Pining, Pre-Reform, Pre-Surak, Pre-Surakian, Romance, Science Fiction, Slow Build, Surak, first-contact, makes you think, prereform, touch-bond, warriors - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-16
Updated: 2016-07-07
Packaged: 2018-01-19 16:09:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 46,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1475884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evilwearsabow/pseuds/evilwearsabow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is the year 2078, and Earth never witnessed a first contact after Warp was developed. James T. Kirk one of the first Captains in the newly created Star Fleet goes on his first deep-space journey. But in times of such relatively new technology nothing goes right and he is immersed in an entirely new culture.</p><p>A Vulcan without Surak, logic, or most modern technologies.</p><p>Secrets hide in these desert sands, and soon things will change.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Tcha'besheh

     “Captain, we're well out of sol's galaxy, approaching two planets, both containing humanoid life...” Uhura smiles down at him. Their craft a large tube-like device, barely 24 feet long and three meters in diameter. Filled to the brim with the newest technology in Space travel, the most Kirk could invent with the few genius level physicists they had in the newly created academy.

“Good, Lieutenant, send our last reports created to Star Fleet headquarters.”

It'd take a few weeks to reach, but, he tried to send as many updates as possible.

The funnel like ship had just enough room to slide around in zero-gravity and access the ship and its engines. But to be honest, if anything were to go wrong at this point the only thing that would help is if the 4 of them were to get to the two escape pods and abandon their mission.

A mission to explore as far out into the galaxy as they can calculate then come back, a small but worthwhile endeavor. Without weapons it is a daunting task, into a world unknown and Sulu is next to comment. “Captain, we're picking up a reading... this doesn't look too good.”

“Alright, what have we got Lieutenant.” Sulu shakes his head. “I don't understand, I think its an ion storm...”

“What's its telemetry...”

“Not certain...” Sulu looks warily at the scope and keeps looking, its all a bundle of readings and incorrect scans now.

“Mr. Sulu, You either know the readings or you don't. What are your readings, that’s an order.” It's unlike Kirk to get short with his crew so quickly, but he hated indefinite answers; yet here they are, the furthest any ship or craft has physically been. The odds aren't really in their favor, or set, in the first place.

“Sir, my machines, they're pulling in and out of random and unstable frequency. But by the increasing temperature I can only guess... we have... minutes till--” Slight groaning as the ship moves out of course, but only slightly.

“Strong storm...” Kirk sighs.

In his calculations and meteorology plans of this galaxy, he didn't see any chance of such a storm.

“We can't afford to be hit with another storm, evasive maneuvers, we're turning around...”

Except, that is easier said than done, the ship starts to shake. Alarm goes off, Scotty above them all scoots down. “Sir, the piloting functions abilities are limited, our main engines shot we'll have to use our escape pod's, or...” The ship shakes violently, again, the calamity outside making everything tremble, groan in anticipating demise.

It careens to the side and Scott frantically stammers, “We've lost one of the pods...”

“Go. All of you, I'll take the ship...”

“But Captain!” Uhura cries out, the ship thunders again.

“That's an order Lieutenant... Commander Scott, you're in charge.”

Scotty looks flabbergasted, Sulu already in the escape pod end of the ship, holding onto Uhura.

“Take care of my crew Mr. Scott.” He says, looking at the engineer from far away in his seat. The last time he'd ever look at his crew again.

“A-aye sir.” They all look mortified, sad, and Jim hadn't calculated such a storm to hit in such quick a time.

The next thing he knows, is darkness.

He forgets how dark space is, forgets how fathomless through the small viewing window he has. Stars speckled everywhere. Kirk has to strap on an oxygen tank, and await death, slowly accepting his fate. With such little power all hopes of getting home are helpless, his odds of survival decreasing by the second.

Jim laughs, because this is so unlike him, only 35 and he's going to die; his old man would have a chuckle as well; If only that storm hadn't hit...

But the ship's speed starts to accelerate, and he's stunned... the tank only containing an hours left of oxygen. The hull nearly breached on one side, the ship spinning out of control as he turns and see's red.

A fiery hued planet, this ship is encountering.

“My God! Computer access auxiliary power...” He shouts, but nothing answers.

“Computer! Access auxiliary power!” A small light dim light flickers and the computers voice give a hauntingly shriveled answer.

“ _Working...Class M planet... imminent collision alert...”_

“Set destination large body of water, revert all energy to shields!” Kirk commands, buckling up.

“ _12% power remaining, collision in five minutes, without power oxygen systems will...”_

“That's an order!” Kirk shouts desperately, taking in a few more breaths, and grabbing an emergency breathing apparatus from his compartment. The voice is gone, all light is gone, as the shields hum and protect his ship from the incoming atmosphere.

Weightlessness spreads throughout the cabin, worse than before, air being sucked out like living in a straw. Jim's hazel eyes flicker, two sharp jolts, and he passes out.

Ship submerged into salty orange sea-water.

 -~-~-~-

When James T. Kirk wakes next, he doesn't expect to be alive. He feels pressure, unrelenting pressure in his ears, still strapped to a seat. The window to his ship showing view to brownish orange, murky water, not seeming to contain even a speck of life.

His ship has about an inch of water on its side, the gravity seems akin to earth and Jim's certain it's class M, as just before the storm hit, their ship was relatively close to two livable planets.

The Captain could dwell on the miserable state he's in, or, he could seek safety with his fight or flight instinct; with a new chance of life like this, dying wasn't an option. He grabs a med-kit, water-pack, rations for 3 days (the rest were on the safety pod) and a tricorder. Opting out on his com device and extra clothing, Kirk climbs out of a top exit.

Noting that since his ship was full of air, it had a buoy effect, but when the door opens... it starts to slide around, the door snaps off of its hinges, Jim scrambles using the door as flotation while his ship starts to slowly sink to the bottom of this incredible ocean.

Jim has no idea where he is, hell, this could be an over sized lake for all he knew. He allows himself to chuckle, shake his head. How did he manage to get out of space alive?

Looking around he realized that was half the problem, not spotting land even in the far distance. It's quiet... dead quiet with not even fish below or animals to grace the sky.

It's unbelievably hot, even the water is warm, Jim's flabbergasted wondering if there is any land? What if this was the planet? Should have scanned this place more before entering, but then again, what choice did he have?

The sky was scarlet, the water orange, the sun golden and hot and with its distance Jim calculated that it was afternoon... if this planet had similar times to Earth that is. He's lying over a piece of his ship, on his belly and letting warm sea water slap up against his hot, sweaty, skin.

It does him justice for two seconds, cooling him down, but dries him out... pruning him, he wants to sleep but he knows its not safe. Soon the water starts to ripple, loud thudding stammers from the far out distance and Jim is snapped out of his floating reverie.

“What...”

Jim speaks, but finds after a few hours silence and painful arid sunlight, his voice breaks... dry and uneasy.

He coughs, the ripples grow larger, the sounds even louder.

A whining he hadn't heard before from behind him so he turns, sprayed with a thick stream of salty water. Barely 90 meters away, a huge, massive aquatic animal slides from the water and quite literally begins a decent into a belly flop straight into the sea.

“Just my luck...” Jim takes in breath and starts paddling swimming as much as his weakened body allows. The whale misses him by a slim margin yet sends him sailing through insane waves like a bullet. A speeding rafter, almost losing his grip on the door, gasping for air when he could manage it.

Groaning sounds through the splash of waves, this massive beast popping up from the water so close he can see it's large gray eye with 4 lids when it closes, only its large fish-like head above the fathomless ocean beneath them.

Bigger than any whale he'd ever seen, it was indeed a whale and seemed to be hundreds of years old. The creature looked molten, as if made of lava-rock, slotted cracks in its skin that nearly glowed orange. An incredible and noteworthy mammoth creature, Jim would piss if he had it in him. He sucks in a tight breath of air, shakes his head.

Looking to this creature through the eyes of infancy, so close he could touch it with a few paddles.

“Well, aren't you... impressive."

It makes a louder than alarm keening noise and Jim winces, noting the damn thing didn't have any teeth. Well, that made things slightly easier. “Well mister, I don't suppose you speak Terran?”

Look at him, a full grown star-fleet captain, talking to a whale, in the middle of some ocean.

The being says nothing, Jim sighs again, he's probably going mad now and he's prolonged drinking his rather small amount of water rations. So he flips his bag out onto the raft, reaches for his small canteen and drinks liberally until the Whale decides that this is a proper time to dive down, fly back up and careen him forward with waves again.

Sending Jim scrambling to hold on to both his bag and flotation device... and soaked in salty, musky smelling water. But when the waves reside, he sniffs his canteen, shakes the water from his face, and dumps the contents out to reveal murky water and nothing else.

The creature is gone, and so are half of his hopes for survival.

Great.

~.~.~.~

Hours have past, the sun is setting, and Jim has no idea how it gets from cook-an-egg temperature, to right above freezing in such a short time span. But boy, does it mess with his system.

Jim's uncleanly, he's sick, shivering, and curses as the inky darkness prevails, there is no moon on this planet just a light dusting of stars that glimmer from magnificent indigo to startling orange. This planet can't have any lights, or cars, even electricity.

He doesn't know why it only just become apparent, but he's so screwed.

Sleepy, the deprivation sinking in, the cold doing its worst Jim curls up onto the door and knocks out.

Only waking when a familiar thud begins, rippling, thunderous noise, a groan.

Here comes Willy.

Really? Jim's already named the creature.

“Well now Willy, I thought you weren't going to come back...” He turns and is nearly jolted with how close this creature is. Glowing orange around its crevices just as it did before, yet, its so much brighter in the night. Alien and radiant, and Jim's hazel eyes go gold in the afterglow.

“So you're a looker... Lucky guy, Don't suppose you know where the nearest land is...” His teeth start chattering again and he tries to shake it off before he touches the creatures thick dinosaur-like skin out of curiosity and realizes its ridiculously warm. Perfectly and incandescently warm.

His eyes flicker shut, the whale stays impossibly still.

“May I?” What the hell is he doing? What is he thinking? How come he's talking to this creature in English as if this thing would really comprehend?!

The thing that happens next, is unreal, The creature pulls himself from the depths of the sea and then sinks so that Jim could easily climb onto its back, glowing under the orange water in such an ethereal light the captain wonders with uncertain gleaming if he's dead already.

A loud, high-pitched keening noise almost answers bossily, and he realizes his hand hasn't left the creatures touch.

“Okay... I suppose I can give this a try... just try and not kill me I need air to breath you know.” He begins to climb up its rigid back warily. And after a few more hours of steady sailing, Jim falls asleep staring up at twinkling stars with his rations-backpack resting on his stomach, strapped to his arms backwards.

 


	2. Shi-al

He wakes, and is surprisingly alive afloat this sea that has gone from orange to a dark salmon color in the now impending sunlight that rises from the east. He can still see some of the stars in the sky as it changes from frigid to dry heat.

Speaking of dry, his body feels this way, steady uncomfortable dryness with soft sweat starting to perspire on his brow. Face aching from the onslaught of heat, body turning darker and darker in its tan.

Well, he'd been meaning to tan on the bay; finally got some real sun but of course his shirt is torn from all the previous action. Might as well dispose of the thing, it was too thin to be giving much protection from this sun anyhow.

At least his black trousers remain in tact, along with his black regulation boots and phaser belt. He isn't entirely certain of the stability his phaser proves now. As captain he was the only one permitted to carry this thing on-ship and on duty. 

Came to his advantage at least. 

Way past the incredibly rouge and blinding sun he see's it, land, precious...sandy...land.

“A ha ha!” Jim smiles, using his arm to block the sun and get a better glance, yet in his laughter he begins to cough at the dryness in his throat. Damn, he could use that canteen now... but crying over spilled milk wouldn't get him anywhere.

“Land ho!” He crouches low, gripping onto the Whale-like creature as it picks up speed. Incredibly so, and has Jim a little worried.

Faster, and faster till he realizes... they're going to hit the reef below. “Now now there! I think we're gonna collide and cause more harm than...” But its too-late, the Whale flops him at least 10 feet in the air and has Kirk flying into semi-shallow waters.

Willy crashes into the ground below, pummeling through at a speed not unlike a drill and swimming through miles of mud, crust, and sand like it was water itself.

There goes Willy, the burrowing, whale-creature, thing...

Jim flops up to surface water panting, and starts to swim expertly through till he gets to chest deep water and wades his way up to the beach. Smiling at the sight of land, sweet and lovely land.

His celebrations do not last long, has he soon realizes nothing ahead for miles and miles but great big blood-red dunes of sand and rock. Much like Sedona, Arizona; but 10 times hotter and its only early morning.

The journey continues.

~~.~.~.~.~~

It seems like most of the day, but he's scaled through this vast, unending desert for so long its irrelevant; he needs to find water, therefore he travels in the breezes direction. It's almost noon-time on this hot planet, causing the sun's violent reaction on his head and skin bleaching his hair and lashes... the Captain needs shade quickly or he knows he will certainly die.

Scaling dunes, he seeks shade as much as he can, the small amount of food rations he has is getting him no-where in his dehydrated state. Tired, dried up and worthless human body; he almost wishes he were Willy for a moment. Then shakes off that thought, thinking it's probably the dehydrated desert insanity.

You'd think after the 4 hours of traveling he'd have found some form of oasis, but then again the whole planet seems to be nothing but rock and sand, then again apparently burrowing whales.

Course that's until he hears the shrill pitched screeching from above.

Jim inwardly curses and uses his hand to visor and get a look at his next visitor who is larger than any Terran bird he's ever seen, circling him ominously. He's wary, defensive, even, as he crawls through sands that burn his limbs and absorb every bit of sweat from his exhausted form.

Heaving, waiting for the thing to dive...so that defensive and unsafe feeling could get out of his subconscious.

No such luck.

The Captain is all survival, crouching, looking up occasionally and where he walks and has to be on his highest guard until the bird grows tired of its post and leaves. Hours later that is...

Jim seeks solace behind a large forming of rocks, rugged mushroom like in appearance providing ample shade. This solid patch of crimson stone that forms off into a giant canyon dust bowl, he almost loses his footing several times, narrowly escaping death.

Yet he see's what seems like alien, castle-like, architecture. It's hardly been 30 minutes climbing natural stone structure when he hears the ringing of bells. Shouting of men, the treading of some form of quadruped.

Jim dashes behind a larger formation, noting these long haired and stunning warriors of alien variety way off in the distance, not really certain of detail as his human eyes can't really take the heat on this incredibly hot planet. The one that most certainly leads them is mounted on a giant bear-like creature with large protruding fangs. The other two running in his stead, fierce, chanting something in an unknown language.

Yet unbeknownst to him, their hostility, of course he can almost see it in their cold black eyes.

He makes a gamble; these 3 men are heavily armed, brutally strong in appearance, seem very rambunctious; but surely if he comes in peace?

Possibly he'd be alright?

Well...

His odds of dying in the desert are greater, than being killed by these guys.

Probably.

Captain Kirk steps forward, speaking in his Standard tongue.

“I mean you no harm... I come in peace...” He's not crouching, but placing his hands out to show he is weaponless. The words come out but they are dry, quaking from sand and dry air. The man on his bear-like creature reigns in the animal, who growls out. It is a sight to behold.

The leader utters out something so vicious, so foreign Jim barely has time to defend himself when the two foot-soldiers come barreling at him something fierce.

“That's one way of answering me.”

Jim mutters under his breath, crouching a little, starting by drawing his weapon and firing what ever energy it had left. Though the stun was so pathetic it only knocked the guy down and pushed him back 5 yards.

At least it gave him the upper hand so he could defend himself; grabbing one mans large, heavy, weighted lirpa clear out of his hands. Jim didn't expect it to have so much weight, but manages ducking one swipe from the other warrior who had regained his footing.

Jim uses the blunt end to knock the first alien out but is faced with the daunting task of the larger warrior.

The weapon snaps in two in his struggle to live, so Jim pummels into him as a last resort; chopping him down into the neck with an open fist in a way that has this alien crumple to his knees. In seconds they begin wrestling, and the altercation prolongs for some time.

Back and forth until finally he has the other, sharp, end of the weapon and has it to the mans neck. Looking up at the regal leader on his beast.

“Kill him.” The warrior says, and in standard English! Jim's shocked understandably shocked.

“No, I told you...” He pants, gasping for any air he can get on this thinly oxygenated planet.

“I come, in peace.” There is no sweat left, just dry, baked, skin and wheezing breaths.

“ _Then you are disgrace.”_ He utters in the dark language this time, then lets a sharp smile settle on his human-looking lips.

They may be humanoids, with Terran qualities even; but it is easy to tell these beings are not human.

Immediately Kirk gets flipped and the man he had subdued has the weapon on him now.

“Dammit...” The blonde hisses, yet does not wince in the face of death; the leader raises a hand.

“ _Kroikah!!”_

“ _Stonn, trasha!”_

'Stonn' (Apparently) steps back and the leader hops off of his mount, walking over to Jim. With a solid kick he has Jim on his back, lifts him up by weak human neck and studies golden hazel eyes.

“ _Kah-if-flekh...”_

Jim’s gasping, panting and staring up defiantly one minute, and out like a light the next when he feels a fist connect to his forehead. He dreams of blue skies, of fresh water, of a creak in Iowa.

Voices of the people who doubted him, who were essentially right.

But he is, alive? Isn't he?

He isn't sure till he is awoken with a splash of water, lying prone under some kind of tent. Mutterings in the same foreign language. His captor the one who awakened him, talking to a man much older than him yet elegantly dressed. Jim assumes its a higher leader figure of some sort but he can't understand a word they utter.

“ _Father, I have found this beast in the sands, I do not know what he is, or why he resides here...but he injured one of my men and tried to kill the other.”_

Murmuring got louder and a woman elegantly dressed, with bright...rather emotive eyes not nearly as dark as the other aliens comes up besides the...elder? King? Of some sort. Her brows thin, painted almost. Jim blinks.

Her eyes widen at the sight of him, and then she steps back at side with another... tall, and lean warrior who has his arms folded and eyes locked onto him in suspicion. Something else lingers in those eyes and Jim hasn't the slightest what that's all about.

“ _His species is clearly weaker, it is your warriors who are at fault for not winning their battles. May they lose their rank and be outcast till they find their worth.”_ The two warriors Jim defeated get hands tied in rope and Jim's just totally confused because he can't understand a word.

Sybok tilts his head and then goes back to Jim dragging him to the feet of said-king-alien-guy.

“ _He speaks the language of the stars, like you and your heathen mate!”_

“ _Kroikah!”_ The man looks pissed now and Jim's now heard that word twice; has to mean 'silence' or 'stop' or something because the younger looking man just bites his lip and shakes his head.

People are murmuring and the woman in elegant dress speaks up _. “What language are you referring to, Sybokh?”_

People murmuring, again, and Sybok in the face of such superiority turns.

“ _My words are false, I silence myself.”_

The regal leader of the bunch, gray slanted brows and thick pointed ears points to Sybok. _“Learn your place, for you are not_ _a_ _king yet.”_

The younger Vulcan besides the queen looking rather stoic and a tad upset, turns on heel to leave. Sybok then nods, _“Yes, but then what shall I do with this heathen?”_

Jim feels all the eye's on him, “I come...” he wheezes. “In peace.”

“ _I do not know, tie him into the prison,_ _give him water,_ _and I will handle this matter privately. I doubt that this_ _weaker_ _being came to you with intention to harm.”_

Most people seemed to agree with whatever this leader guy says... but Sybok...

“ _Sarek! You're judgment is clouded... I...”_ Sarek stomps forward, shirtless, a half-robe that billows long and hangs off of his other arm. Regal, strong as hell, taller than the arrogant looking alien named 'sybok'; he reaches his arm back and backhands Sybok in the face, hard, so hard the thwack scared birds somewhere off in the distance fluttering out of what seems to be an oasis encampment.

Sybok stands back, shamed, people moving out of his direction as he walks away with a sharp glare aimed towards Jim.

Two armed guard-like men, take him to a low building the color of coal with few windows all barred with thick metal and spikes. It stands out harshly among all these beautiful structures of golden reds and vibrant yellows around them.

When he is taken inside, he is stripped, washed, placed in one scant loincloth and thrown into a cell.

How did Sybok know English Standard?

What the hell happened out there?

Who was that woman? Better yet, that lithe creature that stood beside her staring at him with eyes in thought and intrigue. The Captain sits down, sighing; he is alive...but at what cost? Wiping dried blood off of his face and side. All from the altercation earlier.

A bowl of water gets pushed under his bars, and when he rushes to the bowl taking in the fresh water in heaves, remembering to slow down since he isn't exactly hydrated enough to drink normally. Jim looks up, his vision much better in the dimly lit prison.

It is that same man. Young, tall, with a stern disposition.

“You speak Terran. You are from Terra.”

The man opens his fine, elegant lips to state. It is no question, and spoken in Standard, that while understandable...it is heavily accented. Jim stares in shock, for a moment...shivering as he feels the night fall frigid as ever; perhaps he'll get some answers after all.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will try to get these up every 3 days, however the holidays have slowed my time-table I apologize. Please enjoy :3


	3. Pukilko-tor

The prison is rather depressingly empty, they are alone besides an old sickly looking Vulcan in the corner. Jim rubs his eyes again, nods at the mans question.

“Yes, I speak...Terran, Standard... the more interesting question, is...why do _you_ speak my language?” As far as he is concerned he is the first human to ever land on this planet. And judging from their dress and technology there couldn't have been any abductions.

The man with straight cut bangs, long loosely tied hair tilts his head, eyes narrowing down at Jim, so harsh but nothing like 'Sybok' had.

“I cannot speak of it here. But I came here to see it true for myself. That you are, who you say.”

Jim just smiles a little and the man can't help but soften at the sight.

Fluttering golden hazel eyes that catch the fiery torches that hardly light the room.

“Well of course, Yes, I don't think after a fight like before I could go around lying aimlessly don't you think mister...?” He blinks and looks away as if to find an answer.

“What's your name?”

Caught completely off-guard, his hazelnut eyes widen a fraction then seem to zone in on the human; no one has ever so plainly asked him such a question as everyone knew who he was. That and they would not care who he was, Sybok was next in line for rule, for conquer.

“Spokh cha'Sarek.” He utters, scorching eyes fixated on honeyed human ones, somehow making the cool of desert night warm as noontime.

“Spock huh? That's...”

Spock looks at him sort of hesitantly. “That's quite a name.” He nods and smiles, moving his lips as he ghosts the name Spock over and over again in interested repetition. As if the name fit, etched on his tongue as well as his own DNA.

“It is only right, that I know yours.” It's said a little harsh, but Jim isn't worried, not really.

He probably should be.

“Jim, or more-over... Captain James T. Kirk.” He says right back, commanding as ever. Authoritative tone undeniable, Spock is in a way, impressed.

To hold such a tone in nothing but a piece of cloth, in a cell, at his mercy, was something he'd never witnessed.

A moment of silence permeates the room, sounds of sand gusting up against the thick prison walls and the flicker of fire the only thing discernible; until a guard walks in and shouts at them both.

“ _Hey! Who goes...”_

When the guard stops he see's it is Spock and stands straighter, locking his arms to his sides. _“Sire...”_

Spock raises his hand, _“The Queen wished for me to see the prisoner, up close, I've not yet determined his ways. I will go now.”_ The guard nods, seeming completely eased over and Spock sends one last thoughtful glance at Jim, who sends a very intrigued glance back at this...prince... of some sort.

Jim lets his shoulders relax just as soon as he is gone, then finds a spot in the corner so that he may sleep.

Dreaming of Space, as he always did, even in times of great distress.

But that dream ends abruptly.

_Jim... Jimmy run! Flashes of color, reds, gore purples, mangled bodies..._

_A small Jim Kirk runs, runs as far as he can through island humidity a small island renamed Tarsus IV._

_He runs but his stomach and skin still sags, his eyes go sunken, his hands covered in blood..._

-~-~-~-

Spock returns that night to his father and mother, talking heatedly over this new prisoner.

“He must die, I cannot have people talking, people knowing what you are and who you are.” Sarek mutters places his hands on her sides lovingly, though his dear mate shakes her head,“We cannot just kill a man for existing, we have no idea how he got here! Do you not want to know how he got here?” Big human brown eyes fixed on Sarek's, her fingers coming up to rest on his wide expanse of chest.

“ _Ashayam_ , Amanda... please do not make this difficult I...” His eyes flicker hesitance, her painted brows scrunch in confusion. “When we found you...” Sarek starts but Amanda surely finishes.

“When you found me, you did not kill me because you wished to bed me?”

Sarek's eyes widen.

“No, _K'hat'n'dlawa..._ ” Amanda's hand goes over his full, yet angular lips.

“Keep him.” His head tilts at her profession.

“Make him a servant and be benevolent; perhaps he will have knowledge, something for the good of our people?” Amanda softens her posture, Sarek looks as if he wants to argue but she begins to take off her clothes with practiced hands starting with her headdress and then her jewelry...

Spock can admit, his mother _is_ a clever, intelligent, woman. Taking his leave to avoid any awkward imagery.

If this 'James Kirk' is a scavenger, who got here upon his own technologies then he is well suited to stay and assist their land.

And if he is as his mother was, it is the same.

Spock returns to his room, placed near the archive of the castle; vaulted high ceilings made of precious stones and metal.

Though he preferred a pelt tent, on the battle front, sleeping on nothing but a mat and waking to hot fiery sun on his skin. But, his old room would have to suffice for now.

-~-~-~-

Torrid, bright, bloody sunrise over the sands of Shi'kahr.

Sybok awakes as his t'hai'la scrambles up to grab their morning meal; but he it not in the mood. Not nearly close. The sun has just barely peeked from the mountains and S'var meets him with a plate of greens only to be shoved across the tent in petulant repose. S'var growls in relent and drops the bowl charging forward to aim a punch at Sybok.

Of course it would not be at full strength as one must never hurt his t'hai'la, not ever, or face the wrath of exile.

Merely, their way of expression. The physical always made sense.

Sybok is stronger than his mate, tossing him to the floor and pinning him effortlessly.

“Sybok! No ah!!”

Those half-feigned 'no's' easily become yes, driving his _lok_ in S'var right into the floor, hips shoving with incredible force and rhythm. Yet his mate does not moan, cry like a woman would; no, its grunting, growls till S'var lay panting and satiated on the woven rugs and pelts he has won. Sybok leaves him in a crumbled, wrecked heap.

Covered in his semen, blinking hazily.

“I have an outsider to manage, be good, eat well, t'hai'la.” S'var is still panting but laughs grabbing a small hand dagger and tossing it at Sybok halfheartedly. It does not miss, but Sybok catches it between two calloused palms. Both chuckling till the Prince takes his leave, I'pa the Sehlat trudging with its highest speed.

He arrives at the prison in the hour, stomping his way to the cell of the alien taking no time at all to drag him out publicly right outside the city's gates. One shocked look on Jim's face, and resistance as he's being run through sand and stone, trying to upright himself and walk normally.

Jim wouldn't struggle if he was just given a second to walk on his damn own!

“You know, I have my own... two... feet! Mister!” He falls face-first into sand and barely has the time to shrug the sand out of his nose when this 'Sybok' fellow kicks him, hard, onto his side.

“You made a fool of no one, ignorant _alien_ , parasite!”

Sybok swings a lirpa off of his back and swirls it impressively to slice off Jim's restraints with a clank.

“Defend yourself!” Sybok announces before people start waking to stand around and watch; but we have Jim with 4 years of star-fleet training in every kind of martial art from kick boxing to karate. Staying low, regaining his strength and breath in the hot morning air.

“You're naturally stronger than me you know, I'm almost your size, we look the same. It's that...different...body of yours.” Sybok snorts then makes a run at him, looking rather idiotic when Jim does a tuck and roll then dashes back a few meters by sliding through hot fiery sand; barefooted.

“At least I got plenty of water last night, sure know how to treat a prisoner you mean to kill.”

Jim quirks, but stays relatively focused as Sybok's had enough and comes towards him again. Jim dodging most attacks and noticing that not too far away is a medium-sized, sharp, looking rock sticking straight up a few meters off.

It's no bigger than his palm and Jim begins to fake expert fatigue, tries to act defeated as he tumbles back after a few more swipes of lithe fist. The Captain is no fool, and Sybok is very athletic, trained, and tenacious.

“Weak, pathetic, stupid _plaything_! Your death will be a good riddance!”

Sybok growls, still angry from the night before, even as spectators grow in number the silence remains.

A fist comes plummeting to the side of Jim's face but the human has another idea in mind, taking this sharp rock in-between his strongest fingers. Then swiping it hard right across the thick skin of the Vulcan’s neck.

Sybok gasps, the crowd is stunned and if Sybok had been a little closer, or, human he would have been a dead man. But blood was pouring freely from his neck, he had to attend to it quickly or else.

He's dumbfounded into silence as Jim winces at his own injuries, face, blood thick in his mouth as he feels a back molar come lose and has to spit it out, along with mouthfuls of sandy blood.

Spock just then comes in on his Sehlat, jumping off of him mid-run and coming to aide his brother.

“ _Sybok what has happened?!”_

Sybok has started to tend to his wound, quietly, when Spock sends a nasty look at Jim and then unsheathes a dagger.

“ _You! Liar who speaks of peace!”_

Jim looks wide eyed up at the thinner, more...defined, alien in front of him and smiles a little. Woozy from being hit in the head so hard. He could die right now and wouldn't 100% know the difference.

Sybok waves Spock off, taking off his side-cape and using it to wrap around his neck; S'var would know how to heal this wound. Spock had a familial love for his brother, and although they do not get along...

No one shall harm _his_ family.

Spock bolts up to confront Jim, towering over the man who sits dizzily in the sand. “How did you cause harm to my brother?” It had to be some foul play, as his brother is one of the best warriors in their clan; how could he have been weaponless too?

The young prince has his dagger pulled, Shoves it against Jim's throat reaching his hand to grab his skull in order to try and behead him with a cowards death.

But Sarek is soon there, after hearing about the commotion from palace guards.

“ _Kroikah!”_ He commands and Spock who had just touched Jim's skin for a fraction of a second, jolts at the contact.

Stepping back, hands tingling, burning from where he had touched Jim, the Captain looks up at him with unreadable and endless eyes.

What.

In all of hell fire.

Was _that_?

Spock sheathes his blade as commanded and looks to his father with hidden seething anger, a few guards trudging from the prison near-by attend. “Your greatness, The prisoner was released by none other than Sybok.” Sybok looked up a tad guiltily and his father's gaze zoned in on him, angry, disappointed.

“Sybok, in hand to hand combat... this human defeated you?”

James was just coming-too and he shudders, now he's just tired, tired and sick to his stomach with dehydration.

Which seemed to happen fast in this desert, “To be fair, I used a sharp rock... and despite his wound... he could have finished me fast with his bare hands.”

Sarek pretends to not have understood him, but he does, Sybok rolls his eyes because this human is more honorable than he. How could an alien hold such honor?

It goes ridiculously silent again, when Sarek steps forward, _“If you ever defy me again, or lose in battle so dishonorably... I will have Spock execute you with his bare hands and leave you for the sha'vok to devour.”_ Sybok looks away in shame, again, but realizes his actions.

“ _Guards, take_ _the foreigner_ _to my drawing room,_ _make sure he has something to drink.”_

Jim has no clue whats going on, Spock is looking rather confused between him and the man known as Sybok. Before Jim can even manage a breath, he's lifted by two guards and taken without a fight, past the large city walls and down a road leading to a large, angular, castle of rock and sand.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, again, 4 days and I might even make it 4 days now because I like the time it gives me. HOWEVER in my defense it was my birthday the 22nd and my party the 26th so so much crap man! Made a star-trek Enterprise cake and had so much freaking fun doing trek rpg. At any rate, please enjoy! Thanks so much for the encouragement it really helps! Try and update soon! LLAP


	4. Klomak

Jim's led on into the palace, if that’s what these people called it of course; The entry way goes from compact sand to a 15 foot tall door that could probably fit a large caravan. Or at ahead of him, a Sehlat with the ruler-of-sorts right on top of it.

He's not handcuffed, but two guards have expert, bruising, grips on his upper shoulders and back, as he is being stared at by, well, everyone.

From bystanders outside the castle to people inside wearing elegant robes...some wearing hardly anything at all.

Reminding him of ancient Saudi Arabia, or maybe of Indian architecture...to some degree.

He's taken through a maze of halls, huge vaulted and pointed ceilings in multiple shapes and colors. Art on walls made with mosaics and desert toned paint. Elegant, yet some images depicted brutal in either a sexual or physical sense.

There's muttering in that sharp, throaty language and Jim's just panting from heat and dehydration, yet again. It seems to happen more than naught, he's constantly thirsty, constantly drying out, burning on this planet.

“ _Retrieve the being some water.”_

Sarek intones, and the exhausted captain is given a bowl of water after he's shoved on the floor. Then, he dismisses the guards with the flick of a wrist and not a person questions him.

Door shutting in their retreat, the ruler waits a few moments to talk, while Jim looks to the water in question.

Now typically he'd refuse this water and go straight to discussion, but, he's losing water through his unaccustomed pours already. He's slowly sipping at the cool liquid; testing, tasting, and letting his body reacquaint with moisture.

Oh sweet H2O!

If there was a difference between the taste of earths and this planets,

Jim had certainly forgotten.

“How did you get here? Captain Kirk?”

His accents not nearly as bad as Spock's, but, its definitely still there in the intonation and ending letter. Vowels open and wild as their language prescribes; its sort of intimidating.

Not surprised that Sarek knows his name, Kirk tries to look unaffected of, well, everything.

“My vessel was destroyed by a storm in space, we were specifically for exploration. Sir.”

He decides to be respectful, as he is a foreigner and this man really hasn't done anything but save his life so far.

It was only right.

“Indeed? Then why has Sybok insisted your actions violent?”

Jim shakes his head, “That, I'm not certain... he wasn't pleased... with my presence in the first place” and now he's thinking about that question, he hasn't the slightest but will dedicate some time to that thought later.

“I can hardly pinpoint the reasoning behind his actions, surely, you would no more than me.”

Sarek's brow soars, “You are, intelligent, a Captain? As my wife has informed me, is something of a general. A warrior of men or a leader? Correct?”

Weird train of thought, though he figured it was straight to the point.

“Yes, more or less...” A pause. “Your wife? Sir?”

“Tell me...”

The king changes the subject, kind of.

“Where on this 'earth' are you from?”

Amanda had educated Sarek of where she's certain he'd originate; on a north American continent.

“I don't know if you'd understand, but, Iowa. Sir. In which was once known as the United States of America...” It looks as if the King wants to say something else, yet Spock comes barging in like a bat out of hell.

“ _Sybok's an utter fool.”_

Sarek's gaze zones in on Spock.

“ _While I cannot disagree, I have not permitted you to interfere with my questioning of the newcomer.”_

“ _He is a new comer, and has done nothing but caused stir and conflict in our community...”_

“ _This is true, yet, he is intelligent a_ Captain _in their world is something of a ruler, leader, in ours.”_

“ _Indeed?”_

Sarek looks back to Jim, eyes lit with curiosity and strength, Spock merely hesitant.

“I wish to keep you alive, but for our benefit.”

Kirk already doesn't like the sound of that, “What so that I can murder? Kill and live to your will?”

Its already giving the Captain horrific images, these beings could use them however they wished; sexually, physically, violently. And he fails to suppress a lingering shudder.

Sarek shakes his head, “Not to kill.” Or, not yet. “While our essence thrives on the paths of warriors and arms, we have scribes, sciences, artists, even the ways of our gods, our deities.”

Deities? This can't be good, earths history rang in his mind...

Jim has to hold back a sigh, because, well he's been blasted back into the middle ages and he doesn't exactly have a choice at this point.

“I wouldn't be a slave? A servant?”

Sarek has to give him mention, for a man with nothing to his name, he certainly has a fire; even Spock seems intrigued.

“You would earn your freedom.” He decides. “If you can prove to be an asset to my land and people I will let you live, in peace, and in comfort.”

“But I cannot simply grant a new-comer rights to wander my lands unbidden, freely, you are strong for one of your kind.”

Spock looks to his father, almost confused.

And Jim really doesn't have much of a choice? Yet his inner fire screams at the idea, he rather die than be at the mercy of anyone like this. But then that logical part in him, however small, speaks life and a chance at liberty. These people who can give him a fraction of peace, and regularity.

“I won't deal with a cell, or chains, I wont.” Jim stands straighter, placing the empty bowl aside.

“I _can't._ ”

“But I _will_ obey. I will follow your laws to the best of my abilities... though I want to know...”

A moments silence.

“Tell me how you speak my language? Earth's English?”

Sarek his head, and Spock doesn't like the looks of this; his father a renowned telepath walks forward with strength and fierce disposition.

“I will show you, and only if you swear on your life to keep this information between me and my family.”

As if he has much of a choice, yet, he really wouldn't want to harm anyone any how.

“Yes, I swear, on my life.” Jim agrees, and then he feels a strong, calloused, hand touch his face.

Out of silence comes a powerful presence, he can't see anything but what this ruler wants him to see; it's as if he's playing back a memory.

A familiar face, in some kind of star-ship. There is no one there but a single human girl wearing jeans and a cardigan sweater. Shaking like a leaf, crying.

She could be no older than 16, holding her knees into her chest, trying to retain her sobs.

While she seems cold and scared, she isn't harmed, not physically at least.

_// This is not my memory, but my queen,_ _Amanda's_ _//_

Sarek's voice rings powerful but true.

It sort of snaps in place, makes sense, but there doesn't seem to be any other being on this ship; only one massive room with screens all around, a heavy whirring sound, then, a voice.

“Do not be alarmed, Amanda Grayson of Terra, we are here to protect you.”

The voice is flat, and emotionless, the young woman looks up to listen tentatively.

“Who are you? Why have you taken me from my home?” She demands, and rather than weak she is strong, eyes a familiar burning chocolate.

“We. Are. The. Preservers.”

Some interference breaks the voice waves, as if the being itself was trying to decide what information to give.

“We took you from Terra, to protect you, you are one of the last human telepaths... we are to preserve your mind, your genetic coding.”

“I rather die than live alone, than be here alone!” Fists clenched, reckless, strong, human woman.

“You will not be alone.”

She looks conflicted.

“Where are you taking me?”

“Somewhere, where you will be, maintained, properly.” the robotic voice intones.

“Nonsense! I'm not an animal to be maintained! If you want me in a cage you better kill me or I'll do it to myself first.”

“DO NOT....” The ship's lighting goes red, ominous, Amanda stiffens even though there is still flame in her eyes. Again...besides the queen, he had seen those eyes before.

 _//Concentrate, human.//_ Sarek asks, amused, or at least that’s what Jim reads from him anyway.

The lights return to their dim glow, after it looks like Amanda has settled down, or at least, ceased threatening her own life.

“You, have greater purpose, Amanda of Terra, we are sending you, to the. Most. Powerful. Telepathic. Race. In your sector.”

She nods, and looks away, wondering what is to become of her.

“Wh...Why?”

“We are the. Preservers. Collective that protects the needs of the many. You are. The needs of the many.”

Well, she gives the most sarcastically lifted brow known to man.

“Right, well, I have nothing to say to those who kidnap me and leave me cold and hungry on some tin-box called a... a space ship? What is this? Dr. Who?”

She shakes her head, sitting back down on the cold jade-colored metal that the whole ship seems to be made of.

The next thing she remembers, is waking in a pile of sand, red, hot, sand.... now, the POV seems to leave hers and turn to his. Sarek's.

_//This is how I found her.//_

Sarek Cha'Skon, riding in the heat of afternoon Vulcan, in the desert of Shi'al, upon a massive Sehlat.

Two of his friends at his side, laughing, as they had just destroyed a terrible clan that had came through their city, stole people for slavery, and took their mounts. They did not do the same however, merely killing those responsible and taking back their belongings.

But it was a celebratory ride, Sarek going faster than the others until he saw her.

Her, a female in odd clothing.

His friends almost caught up with him, but Sarek turned. _“Go! Go on home, tell my father I am busy, I will be home before sunrise.”_ And while they stopped and exchanged confused glances, they knew better than to defy the prince-would-be-kings orders.

Sarek didn't know what compelled him to protect her, keep her from his brutish companions.

In fact, one of those companions, was to be his tent-kept T'hai'la.

She looks to him with defiant eyes, chestnut hair down to her mid-back, sweating.

“Stand back!”

Sarek didn't understand what she said, but he could feel her displeasure even from where he sat.

Fear, uncertainty, defense; all in her expressive alien eyes. Full, shapely, brows.

Shorter than any woman he had ever seen.

Pale, excreting water, yet flushed red from the sun and with a turn of her head she reveals softly rounded out ears.

He must have her.

Is the first thing he thinks, then, he must sooth her...

Dismounting, he stands before her tall and regal, wearing nothing but a warriors flimsy tunic and long black locks (now cut short due to his place.), she tries to scramble away from him, tripping over sand, panting.

It's no use, he is solid in the hot desert, fearless to her strength, and even as she throws a solid smack to his face Sarek reaches down. Touches her forehead and cheeks, gentle, reserved.

_~~ Lovely one, who came from sand, who are you?~~_

Telepathy would never be so necessary and to his shock, she can respond through touch in kind.

The fear leaves her, and is replaced with surprise.

_~~ I am Amanda, of another world; and I have been chosen for preservation.~~_

Sarek withdraws from Kirks mind, and Jim's left panting, gasping. Spock watching them with a raised brow and mild curiosity.

“My God...” He wipes his brow, looking around in disbelief.

So an alien culture, just brought this Amanda straight to Sarek.

“So, there are more cities like this? Other clans?”

“And we are all at war, a pointless war, but I cannot console others as I can my own clan.”

Jim nods, “And Amanda, she... she's your wife, and no one else knows she is human?”

“Only my sons, only they know, it is for her safety.” Then he looks to Spock, then to Jim.

“Their, safety.”

“He's half human.” Spock goes rigid but Sarek seems to nod.

“Indeed.”

Jim makes sense of it all, and finally nods, “Okay, so, I get it...”

“Do you accept my terms presented earlier?” Ever tactile, Jim sighs.

“Yes, I...” Giving his freedom so easily?

Normally he would be ashamed, he'd fight to his skin, teeth, and bones.

No cage, no being, can hold Jim Kirk.

Perhaps, he'll get out in Sarek's graciously given way.

“Yes, I'll go peacefully, I'll earn my freedom.”

A chance to live, Jim looks to the prince who's done nothing but stare this entire time.

“I'm curious, on what Spock has to say on the matter.” Jim asks, a pained smirk on his face as Spock's brow quirks even more severely.

It's as if the man has no clue what to say when Jim chuckles.

“Cat got your tongue?”

Sarek seems to be the only person who gets it, staring with shocked eyes at the two of them, outright laughing in a short, mild, manner.

Spock is never usually so, reserved.

“If my father believes you should be spared, I see no reason to counter his judgment.”

Sarek shifts uncomfortably. “Speak freely my child.”

Then, something shifts in Spock's eyes, he steps forward to look Jim right in his honey-colored hues, stance dominant, body long and strong; Jim can't help but notice the scarring, the elegant porcelain skin, like a god with long raven hair and ebony orbs that pierce something inside fierce.

“If you hurt my family, captain, I will decapitate you, and throw you to the scavengers.”

Jim isn't perturbed, or surprised, or even dismayed.

“Fair enough, Mr. Spock, but if someone comes at me, I won't hesitate to do whats necessary to survive. I'm no fool.”

“I implied no such thing.”

Jim gives him playful smack on his bicep, eyes a-lit with jocund amusement.

That burn, that vibrating sensation flurries his hand again, fiercer than the last time.

“Good, I think....” he eyes Sarek for a second, Spock's eyes are wide but his mouth is pressed in a tight line.

Shaking off the discomfort. “I think we'll get along swell, Mr. Spock.”

Sarek gives a small, telling, smile. Spock is not amused, and inwardly very, very, disturbed.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone guess where I got the preserver concept from? ;D
> 
> Please enjoy! And RnR would be really nice <3


	5. Ko-mehk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Took me ages, don't kill me.

The weeks rolled by in the Fortress of Sarek, and it seemed that there was nothing that the King could do with him. Not in particular. With two guards always at hand, he was allowed to roam the grounds as much as he wanted, just as long as he returned to his quarters by night fall and caused no harm or foul.

It was better than slavery or bondage, Jim thought inwardly. But it was still very boring, left him antsy and uncertain at all times.

Interestingly enough, Sarek was the only clan on this planet to not own slaves. He paid all his workers a wage, they were all free to come and go as they choose. Of course, many didn't really have a choice as becoming a warrior was not an easy feat, and crossing the desert to another clan was suicide. Only the warriors had such strength, and few would show such disloyalty.

Sarek either re-settled people into his own clan, they died as a casualty, or his warriors left them to rebuild.

It was, different, than he expected at least; a good thing though.

Earth was beyond their wars, just now getting to a better place and Jim longed for it. Craved this kind of social breakthrough. His people learning about equallity, straying from the caste system, or the system that was before him; No structure at all!

Alas, he is not on earth anymore, he would try as hard as he could to assimilate here.

His new home.

They gave him a better robe, pale-blue, apparently a rare color made from some berry in the northern hemisphere. Jim asked them why, but, the woman told him he had heavens eyes like stars not reached.

What a weird bunch, so poetic, Shakespearean even.

It hangs much like a toga, yet wraps differently draping, over his left side and waist. Strapped, thick, sandals, it pairs interestingly with the bruise slowly fading on his cheek, and golden eyes. Not a chain or cage in sight, to his relief.

Watched closely by guards and scribes, Jim ventures around the palace that he's been allotted access to.

He finds solace in the library, teaching himself Vulcan slowly but surely.

It's difficult to say in the least, he can't quite get the accent down; his memory is sharp enough, in fact its better than the guards surmised, at first he can pick up cues, on common words like 'go' or 'sleep', 'yes' and 'no.'

It seemed these Vulcan's went nuts when they wanted, women fighting over women, men over men, men over women... everything in between.

It was common to see others fighting like this in the halls, the auditorium, sometimes the garden; neck and neck, spear to spear.

But the library of sorts, was peaceful.

Compared to the searing heat outdoors, the windows were long, tall, without glass like they would be in other parts of the castle. Scrolls and book-like paper-pads full of history. Thousands of years of death, pain, warriors and kings.

It would be similar to if nothing had changed in earths 1500's, due to war and complete intolerance.

He used this half-imprisonment to his advantage, learning their language in full; while his accent was very Terran, in two months he had almost completely picked it up.

Naturally.

Wandering the coal-colored marble floors, picking out another scroll on cartography.

Well that can't be right...

He remembers seeing Vulcan from a space-perspective and with little clouds their planet had, Kirk already knew their land mass was much, much bigger, that their sea's were smaller and harder to pinpoint.

He already knew there were two larger bodies of water.

Jim begins to shape out what he remembers in his eidetic mind, sketching slowly but surely, when he's interrupted by a familiar voice, in Vulcan that he now understood.

“ _Spock, do not lecture me, I am safe here even on my own; Sarek would not...”_

“ _Mother, I know you are strong, that you are no prisoner, but father is a fool. For allowing you to wander here while the foreigner meanders here recklessly...”_ Spock's wearing...more clothes than usual, his mother in her typical layers of robes, elegant and otherworldly.

“ _Stop.”_ A soft scowl on her face, and Spock seems to soften, they begin to turn the corner when they see Jim sitting there staring at them both with intrigue.

“ _So the man lives and breaths.”_ A saying familiar to, speak of the devil, here. Jim tries not to smile, none of them know that he speaks and understands Goli.

“ _Spock, please do not worry about me. I don't think this human is who you should be worried about.”_ Spock looks puzzled between the two and watches her go.

“Good evening, Captain.” Is all Amanda says, softly, before sauntering out like she owns the place.

Of course, as Sarek's woman of choice...she kind'ov already does.

“Good evening, your majesty.” Jim answers, a glimmer to his eyes, knowing, coy with an emotion all too stunning. Before he can refocus his gaze, Spock is in front of him orbs lit with Vulcan flame. “You would do well to never approach my mother without an escort.” There's this seething bit to his words that have very little effect on the starfleet captain.

He simply appears bemused at the warrior, something akin to playfulness when he eyes Spock. It's probably stupid, even more-so unwise, but Jim can't be scared of this guy. As if something warm surrounds him in his presence.

Perhaps leaving them in the dark about his knowledge of the Vulcan language would be the best tactic for now.

“Believe me, Mr. Spock, I would be a fool to try something like get close to the Queen. Of all people.” Eyes fluttering away, then he looks right back into his face, stunning eye-colour dark enough to frame the galaxies he missed.

Something different though, you could see the iris, a chocolate hue that edges them.

“Your...” A few blinks, he snaps himself out of it. Because even Spock seemed to grow quiet, it's almost as if time paused for a moment. Jim busies himself with the map before him, redrawing it out as best as he can remember with the mere flash he had of it on his computers, and well, crashing to it's Sea.

“Your map is incorrect.” Spock, had been watching for some amount of time, the captain shakes his head. “Not according to my ships satellite, and I'm pretty sure it's better than what ever compass you have lying around here in dust and sand.” At least they had working writing utensils that we'rent like feather quills or something ridiculously ancient like that.

With a few blinks the scantily clad alien, sits beside him, awe almost visible in the wide human-like eyes. Is it just Jim, or do these bad boys change quite a bit?

“Fascinating.” Spock mutters, running his scarred hand over the parchment.

“I think so...”

“I have not seen a map that covers the entirety of this planet before. What does your human planet call ours?” Spock looks completely curious and Jim starts to smile, albeit a tad weakly.

“We just found it, to be honest, we hadn't considered a name yet...”

“Vulcan.” Spock interrupts, “Call this world, Vulcan, the language, Golic.”

An opinionated warrior, how interesting!

“I don't suppose you have a reasoning?” A small question, Spock shakes his head. “None that would suit your human tendency to become insatiable for knowledge.”

“And you've never been thirsty for the like? Ever hungered to know whats out there among the stars?”

No answer, bingo, got it in one.

“I will not surrender to the talk of children and slaves. I must leave and cater to my men, but it is as I say human. Watch where you step.” There was a certain kind of gentleness, that now was gone and replaced with harsh, coldness, like the desert at nightfall.

“Very well, mister, I guess we all have people we have to cater to.” Jim shakes his head, Spock almost is caught in his glare. The Vulcan rips the partly finished map off of the table, crumples it into his fist, and leaves.

So it's with a frown, Jim closes the older map inside the book, and leaves for the kitchen; perhaps they will have a few scraps of leftovers he can get his hands on.

Jim's been antsy, how does one earn his freedom in a place he hardly knows? How does he get out of here? It's been weeks, months, and he barely has accustomed himself to the new time zone, the new day light and sweltering heat that sears him to the bone. Turns him a darker gold that has women staring at him, men too.

He decides to wander out to the garden, when he bumps into someone he definitely wasn't expecting.

“Oh!” Amanda squeaks, rather un-matronly of her, but Jim's not concerned in the least of etiquette or trivial matters. Simply helps her up from the sandy-soil, “Your majesty, are you alright?” She chuckles dusting herself off and looking to Jim with crows feet and soft smile.

“Why, yes, yes I'm rather fine thank you... do you enjoy these parts of the garden?” Tentatively, she asks, looking behind Jim, almost checking for other company.

The human captain backs off a little, his grin never fading, yet it grows wary only showing just how careful he feels about this random meeting.

“Yes, my lady, I do, they seem to have some kind of semblance to earth...”

She nods, smiling wider, “Yes, see, I tell Sarek this but he never seems to understand...”

“Well, teaching a Vulcan how to understand anything outside of their realm, seems a little impossible.” Jim sighs, looking around the neatly kept garden, the wind starts to bustle and Amanda clings on to her head scarves a little, re-tucking them beneath her lavish robes.

“Perhaps, and yet, I have taught mine peace. Love, and peace, James.” Fondness in her eyes Jim can't mistake for a second.

“You know, I'd never believe that before. But after reading half of their literature, I can see it now. Brutal, savage, words of men from the ancient times of earth.”

Amanda smiles a little, “When I left earth, it was almost no-better...”

“Well it is now. Thats one thing I can promise you.”

She looks surprised, but it's soft, everything about this woman is soft and slightly demure and he thinks: this must be where her son gets it.

“Amanda.” It's not shouted, simply spoken loud, the voice deep and edged with worry.

The King.

 

“ _Amanda, are you alright?”_ As if Jim isn't even here, the Captain looks knowingly at Amanda, but she's already looking to her husband with happy eyes, and pursed lips. _“Ashayam, I was checking on our garden.”_

Sarek finally sees Jim, his eyes narrow down on the human and suddenly Jim feels 3 feet tall, he bows super low. Remembering he forgot to with Amanda earlier, but she doesn't seem to mind.

“ _Was he bothering you, Ashaya?”_ Jim resists the urge to give a slow eye-roll, _“No, he was helping me, I feel in the soil... your wife is clumsy.”_ Sarek looks to Jim, then to his wife.

“Very well, good evening, Kirk.” Amanda looks back to wave at Jim, winks, and quickly paces to get to the Kings side.

What a woman, Jim thinks, and then heads to his quarters.

Yet when he gets to the doorway his room has been broken into, ripped to shreds, a scream sounds just as he enters, and the Captain has no idea what to do except... run in and make sure no one has been harmed.

A Vulcan servant girl, laying on the floor, dead.

Jim checks the woman's neck for a pulse, for breathing, anything, but there's nothing. Nothing but pools of emerald between his fingers, on his knees.

“My god! Someone...” He bursts out, running down the halls without direction. “Someone, anyone! Please!”

He frantically exclaims, getting a few older servants to check on his room, guards from the main hall follow him.

“There's, a woman...” He huffs, “In my, room, she's, She is....dead.” The guards take him roughly by the arms, and really what is it with the arms. Jim rolls his head along with his eyes in disbelief.

Before he can say much else, a very half dressed King is at the scene, looking very morose, uncertain, cold and...obviously interrupted.

“Explain.”

He asks, Jim's gripped hard between two iron Vulcans, and he's completely and totally doomed.

 

 

 

 


	6. Kash-nohv

 

Well, the last thing James T. Kirk wanted through this whole experience was to be suspect of murder, he's led to the Kings study, still being lifted by his arms, a few people following. Spock was already in the room, Amanda was nowhere to be found, and Sarek's guards are about to close the door when a familiar face comes bounding in fiery and explosive as ever.

“ _Father, I came when I heard the gong... a death in the castle?”_ Sybok looked around the room, his steely gaze upon Jim for a moment and then back up to his father who is re-arranging his half-stripped robes.

There's no guessing what he was doing before the murder, Jim's ears heat up a little at the thought.

Apparently, they go by drum and gong system when something happens in their fortress, Jim tries not to sigh.

“ _I do not think we are on a high alert, a murder took place inside the Captains room. I do not have any evidence beyond the blood on his hands.”_

Great, Jim thinks, they still don't know he understands them. He buckles down and listens for now, even as one man comes in, shaking, a small thing and a servant no less. He cocks his head, curious, towards the Vulcan.

“ _M-my lord, I saw it, with my own eyes; this creature of water, he killed T'vlar, slaughtered her when she refused him her bed!”_

Nope, Jim draws a line there.

“ _Liar! I had only just arrived to my room when I heard the scream. When I saw her I checked for a pulse, then searched for help!”_

Slightly accented, terrible intonation, but as it is, Jim is fluent and his ending note rather remorseful in the desert tongue. Spock's head snaps in Jim's direction, and all three of the ruling class men have pointed brows raised up passed their bangs. It's like looking at Russian nesting dolls.

“ _How well do you speak our tongue, Captain?”_

“ _I'm not sure, your majesty, honored one, your opinion is more worthwhile.”_ Well, kissing ass, check, shock the princes', check, next lets prove innocence. He thinks, looking right at the king with honesty and determination in his eyes.

“ _B-but my liege! I saw it, I saw, a man of **this** world... you would so easily believe the alien!?”_

Sybok looks to the civilian, there are two in the room who were ultimately close by during this whole ordeal. Four guards in total, and Spock standing arms crossed in the corner with a low-seating table.

Covered in books, letters, and a very familiar wrinkled up, hand drawn, map, pressed out and under a paper weight.

Jim tries not to let the smile he feels, show on the outside, even as Spock looks at him, gaze faltering, as if he just knows Jim knows, what he was doing in here before hand.

“ _Father, the servant has greater understanding! This human should be punished!”_ Sybok snaps, Spock now looks to his brother as if he is mad.

The servants looks uneasy, but something else in their facial expressions, Jim can tell, and knows, that they are lying. He tries to look at Spock, conveying fear and confusion.

With one search of eyes, Spock is walking towards his stressed father, who seems to be deep in thought.  _“Father, I suggest that we take this from another perspective.”_

Sarek's eyes raise for a moment, and then he looks to his sons, then Jim, then the servant. _“Sybok, console the servants, the guards may leave, Spock and I will make a decision with the alien in private.”_

“ _My lord, he is a fiend! You should have him executed immediately!”_ Sybok growls, and Jim winces, but only slightly, their word for execution sounds as harsh as its definition.

“ _Go, now, the evidence is strong against him. Despite our council, he will be punished accordingly.”_ Spock looks as if he wants to protest, even Jim, and at this point the Captain wouldn't be surprised if he was killed. He made it further than he ever imagined he would.

So, along with the guards, Sybok reluctantly leaves muttering something Jim couldn't quite get. He's still trying to get the hang of this Vulcan language ordeal. He's standing there, skin coated in crackling and caked blood. Turning an eerie shade of forest green, that smears to a lime color when disrupted or rubbed against.

“Majesty...”

“Silence.”

Jim is definitely silenced, bowing his head to the marble tiling as Spock and the King discuss his sentence.

“ _Father, let me touch his mind.”_ Spock starts, and Jim snaps up shocked and confused. What does that even mean? Sarek looks just as shocked, _“But my son, even if we are to figure what he has and what he has not_ _committed._ _The people will still ask for his punishment..”_ Spock intercedes, _“Perhaps, however, if we are to find that he has not committed the crime, the punishment should be lesser? Something that would perhaps prove his worth?”_

Go Spock! Jim cheers, inwardly, eyes glimmering with a hope he's never lost, not completely. For as long as Jim Kirk has the stars, he'll be alright. “So, uh, mind telling me what this 'touching my mind' bit is about mister?”

Spock and Sarek look to James as if they had forgotten he was even there, Sarek opens his mouth but his warrior son is the first to begin.

“I am strange among my people, an outlier; I am able to touch and feel the emotions of any and all beings.” Sarek seems even more put out, sitting in his chair with his face halfway in his hands. Jim nods, but he's still not getting it.

Sarek showed him his thoughts before? But does that mean, only Spock can feel emotions? Or that Spock can see his own thoughts and the like?

“I can also link my mind to any being, see their thoughts, their memories. These images and patterns, they cannot lie. Your mind, will not lie.”

Oh.

 

Oh good _god._

Sarek looks just as ghostly over this, and Jim feels panic stretch through his core. Surging through his veins and skin, until, he peers into the Vulcan's eyes. Dark, fervent...hopeful.

He wants Jim's innocence, he truly does, and Jim isn't really ready to die just yet.

“So, I guess, we better get this thing over with?” Both of the men are surprised, and Jim just nods.

“ _Very well, Father, with your permission...”_ Sarek raises his hand in acknowledgment, permission granted with a flick of strong, pale, wrist.

Spock proceeds towards Kirk, strong shoulders, sharp piercing gaze so fierce that the Captain's heart begins to pound in his chest. The Vulcan presses, cool, lithe, fingers to Jim's forehead.

“My mind to your mind, my thoughts to your thoughts.”

Words that will forever be etched on Jim's soul, or 'katra' as the Vulcan so simply put it. Something they hardly studied, but at least it has a name.

It is like diving into a pool of water.

There is no black, there is no white, just contrasted hues dark to light in vibrant display. The pool of water so translucent he can see the many pebbles below him.

There is no salty taste, nor is there a metallic tinge like a spring. It is pure, clean, and delicious: Jim can breath. But before him, a figure naked and familiar is the Vulcan who had reached into his mind. Standing there, walking along the bottom of this body of water as if it were second nature.

_//Ashayamm, T'hai'laa...//_

It's Spock's voice, keening, and Jim is lost.

Some kind of force draws Jim to the man, only realizing now he too is unclothed, raw, stripped bare in a way he never imagined. He can see just fine, but above this pool are the stars, if this is heaven, let him die right close to the Vulcan who slowly etches through smooth rocks to encounter him.

One who holds a presence unlike any creature in the galaxy.

Jim swims closer, Spock walks towards him, and when they touch.

They melt, gold and red, like burning molten lava or a rip in space. They melt, Spock delves deeper into him in a way Jim can't explain. Couldn't hope to explain, as he feels whole, shattered, puzzled and then whole again in less than a second.

The memories of the murder prior flash, and then, he awakes, firmly pressed into Spock as ceiling to it's column.

“Spock.” Jim murmurs under his breath... “Spock...” It's stronger this time, his golden eyes snap open.

Spock rips away, and instantly regrets it, panting and heaving just as Jim begins to; trembling, falling in a heap to the floor. Tears in his eyes, body a mess.

“ _Father he is innocent, on all counts.”_

Sarek looks concerned, _“Are you well, Spock? Is Jim harmed?”_

“ _Emotional transference, because he is alien, it was more extreme.”_ Spock puts almost simply, his hands are quaking, but he's retained his straight posture. Body hulking, beautiful.

So ravishing, Jim thinks, even though there is pain and pleasure ripping through his system like a fire.

“ _Very well, I will have him incarcerated for the night, tomorrow we shall declare his sentence.”_

Something rips inside of Spock, like a storm, like sand shattering an ancient wall. No one should touch what is rightfully his. He stammers back, then just looks to the floor. Jim looks up with confusion and worry, Spock is just stern, harsh.

“ _Yes, Father, I will alert the guards outside, I must go to my tent and meditate.”_

Meditate? Jim didn't know Vulcan’s meditated, he's never seen one of these guys do something like that! And it makes him wonder, just how different Spock is from the rest.

_//Spock...///_

Jim thinks, just before the prince leaves and the Vulcan halts, looks at Jim, then leaves.

The next thing he knows, palace guards have him by his arms again. Lifting him to the cells he had been in once before. Cold and unforgiving as the nights allowed, and lit only with feint oil lamps.

 


	7. Diftor heh Smusma

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Again, this took me 7 months, sue me, god damn, comment if anyone is still freaking reading this...

 

The night is spent cold and restless in a bed of silky Terra Cotta sand, the prison bars dark and a shade of rust. They were far from rusty or damaged just a little worn. Vulcan metal, Jim attributes, laying on his back and studying the brick ceiling with bored eyes and fingers tracing patterns in the sand. Even in the dark, the Captain can feel, see, the bruises forming on his upper arms.

Will the Vulcan race ever cease to man-handle him?

He can hear some murmurings in the foreign tongue, something like a prayer, a warriors oath, something he could only partially translate. In the cell across from his, a man sits and meditates. Again, the second time he's ever heard of Vulcan's doing such a thing. Not even the books explain this.

Jim got so bored, he's read everything he can on Vulcan culture.

“Elder? Why do you meditate?” Jim asks in their language, posing mild curiosity.

For a while there is silence, Jim's head turned in the mans direction as the old sweat dries off with the withering breeze. His golden body glistens in a way that Vulcan's do not, glittering with sand and moisture.

The elder looks dry, calloused and weary, but his expression is of the utmost peace, if not unemotional in a way.

How odd for this prisoner...

“ _Many of our kind find meditation a waste of time.”_

Jim shakes his head, “I can only imagine why.”

“ _You speak dryly, and it's becoming; you do not heed to their ways either? Yes?”_ You would expect the most wretched voice, something carved from decades of being spent in this prison alone. And yet, his voice is deep. Smooth like stone worn over from centuries of stream.

“No...” Answering almost immediately. “No, I do not. I don't understand why they continue to act brazenly. So barbarically, incredibly ancient...”

“ _Certainly our people are not the wisest, nor the most intelligent. But we all must understand there is no such thing as primitive cultures. Only different.”_

Jim thinks it over, and sullenly nods.

“I don't know what I am to do...I've been framed for a heinous crime and I have no certainty. No path anymore, nothing to my name, no freedom...”

This elderly man who sits legs crossed, reminds him of Buddha. Hand lifted up to silence James gently, and it works. The Captain goes quiet and watches, nothing but the gentle glow of oil lamp in his golden eyes.

“ _The king finds a favor in you, I do not see death for you, but time will only tell. The strength of a man is not told by rank, by name, or lineage. But by his actions, his strength. You will do better knowing that whatever title you held before on your own planet should hold little meaning to you now. Proving yourself here, will be the ultimate task.”_ Once against faced with words he'll have to think on.

“I don't ask for favor, I just ask for my freedom. If I must prove myself, I will have my wit and what I was as a _captain_ to prove myself. Its is who I am, it's what I've worked hard to obtain, would you take something so necessary?” Obviously at a loss. It seems the elder will have none of this.

“ _You forget, your title is given to you by someone not of this world. If you truly wish for your freedom, your independence. Should you not work to improve yourself, not for a title, but for your own improvement?”_

Jim opens his mouth, but he cannot reach the words that sit in his throat.

“ _Become someone here, become something that will change our time. Just as you would have in your own world.”_

Such incredible meaning, who is this person? Jim turns to the elder, he doesn't quite get it. Hell, he doesn't even half understand it. But he has retained, has been taught, perhaps such a lesson will stick to him for whatever lies ahead.

“Thank you, elder, I should meditate myself if it's to gain the piece of mind you're able to achieve.”

The elder tilts his head, moves it for what seems the first time throughout their whole conversation. Perhaps, with how the sand flutters off of his hair, for a rather long time.

“ _Indeed.”_

So then it is days.

A solid three days of dried flat bread and murky water, not a word for what is to become of him. Whatever it is, it leaves a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. Whatever it is, he won't be going down without a fight.

He finds peace in meditation, mimics the elder one and follows suit, and something about this planet. Something about this heavy air and solid heat. It makes it easy to drift away into a quiet state of mind; at least for a few hours before he gets bored again.

Finally on the third day, a guard comes to his gate and tells him that he will be retrieved soon, washed, and brought before the kind. Then, tramples off.

Jim stares in open confusion, uncertain of what this could all mean.

“ _He has a duty or you, otherwise, he would not have drawn a bath.”_

Said the man who meditates still, unmoving.

“How can you be so sure?”

“ _I cannot.”_ He remarks simply. Yet, instead of clasping his mouth in a familiar flat line, it is like watching an automaton move from the ground. Unreal. The elder moves to his feet, gets to the very edge of his prison and withdraws something from his side.

“ _Take this. Hide it on your journey to the castle and reclaim it. It is something I created once in my youth, something that will help guide you that none other shall comprehend.”_

It is an odd short of shape, hexagonal with a circle and a triangle etched on the outside. It's wooden and it appears to open. Jim can't quite make out the words on the compass that are smoothly inscribed on its edge. But it is attached to a smooth piece of rope.

“It's beautiful, why would you give me something, something like this?”

“ _The needs of the many, outweigh the needs of the few or the one.”_

Before Jim can ask questions, or open his newly acquired gift he has to hide it under his tunic. The guards are arriving. So instead.

“Thank you, kind elder.”

“ _Live long and prosper young one.”_

To anyone else that would be a disparaging remark, but he takes it with a smile like honey. Letting these guards roughly drag him to the fortress of Sarek.

Where he is brought he is able to hide his gift under his dirty pile of clothing. What is laid out for him is a new tunic and some sort of padded strapped shoe, a cape with a hood. Changing after the quick soak, and instead of being manhandled to the King again. He is brought into a large hall with the throne and the queen sits there as the King stands. Spock, stands in the corner, looking vaguely, unhappy. Almost unsettled to a point.

“ _We have discussed your punishment for the acts committed three nights ago. Devastating acts that if we were to have more than one credible witness report, I would have no choice but to cut your throat and feed you to the desert birds.”_

Jim watches, unfaltering, and notes that Spock gazes upon him with eyes unwavering and fists clenched.

“I defer to your judgment.” Jim eyes him, since he will not suffer death, he might as well take his punishment head on. Challenge glimmering in topaz eyes despite it all.

The king may have blinked at the statement, but he continues unchanged.

“ _This.”_ He pulls a half-drawn map in his hand, familiar to the Captain. He drew it himself. It seems to be flattened out and studied.

“ _This is the most accurate map I have ever seen of our world. To see it done so effortlessly, leads me to believe you could do so more eloquently than any being of our time...”_

Jim is confused, what the hell does this man want? A map?

“ _You will take a sehlat, you will receive weapons and enough food and water for 2 weeks time. But you will travel. You will create a map of our entire world, and create 4 substantial providential markings to map out the separate kingdoms in our lands.”_

So basically, an impossible journey. With little provisions, with hardly a clue and...

“ _You are not welcome in our kingdom, until this task has been completed. Do not ask for assistance, do not come to our door. Or you will be executed.”_

Spock finally looks away, but Jim has his eyes on the king and then the ground in thought.

No, not impossible, not terrible, an honest trial. Work that needs done. Something that will hold for these people, a sign of human strength. Jim looks sternly, fear still lingers in his features. But he's no coward, only wise enough to know this is no easy feat.

“ _However, if you do complete this quest, you will not only be welcome to our kingdom, but a free man, a man not without wealth or means. Your own.”_

“I have no choice but to accept, and I will do this task. Not only for me, but for the betterment of your own kind.”

The King takes that with a gentle nod. _“My son will ready you for your journey, you will leave within the hour.”_

With a look at Spock, the young warrior pads over to Jim and takes him by the arm... “Again? With the arm? You all just love throwing the alien around. Don't you?” Something is alight in his belly at the contact, but he has to will it away.

As soon as they are in this sort of armory room, Spock pushes Jim to the wall with force, yet it is not wild, only stern. Eyes floating almost sinister, and with something like want. Jim's searching in them, the silence overwhelming for at least a minute.

“What.” He gazes, eyes locked.

“I do not know how it is possible. Or why the deities play with my life so foolishly. But you are my mate, we are T'hai'la.”

Jim kind of scours through the information in his mind, his gaze wavers. “What?”

“For a seemingly intelligent species, I seem to have to explain everything in great detail.”

“No... I...” It's a haze, they're alone in this room and he knows what that means, he knows exactly what that means and yet.

“It is, the number one reason you stand alive here. Not a title or my fathers trust, it is I, that gave you a fighting chance.”

“What so I can come back and be some wife? Some mate to a man who hates me? Who scowls at my presence?”

“No, so that you may come back, be free, and if I find you worthy, I will make the ancient claim. I will take you as my brother, lover, my shieldmate...”

“Soulmate.” Jim scoffs, violently shoving Spock off of him. “Why should I believe you? Why should _you_ claim _me_?”

Spock looks momentarily offended, confused. Yet he starts to ready Jim for his travels. A leather strap around his chest a satchel with paper, ink, some sort of sleeping tent wrapped tightly in a bundle. Seemingly furious, except when he answers, it's merely proud.

“Who says that it must be I that claims your person?” A brow raised, a slight uplift of lips, only saying this right after he's fully strapped Jim up with all his needs including a lirpa, a dagger and an anwoon. It's precise movement, how a warrior readies a soldier for battle, except there is none. Oil, water, special bread. This shuts him up.

Spock splays a fully open hand on Jim's nearly bare chest despite his off-shouldered tunic. Trailing it down rather sensually, with full eye contact.

Stopping at his groin, and pulling away.

“Don't die.” Is all Spock says, as if it's a command and not a plead.

Jim opens his mouth, “That’s the best you can do for your so-called T'hai'la?”

Spock doesn't look offended, only lightly amused, “What would you have me do?”

Pursing his lips in a thoughtful sort of frown and shaking his head as if were easy to think of. “Have you ever kissed? Mr. Spock? In the human way?”

Spock's eyes are wide, he looks scandalized, his own kind don't 'kiss' like that. Especially never in public, and only with one deemed their mate. Jim is not quite legally his mate, but nonetheless in his stunned moment. Jim moves forward, tilts his head, and without touching the warriors body with anything but his lips. He kisses him.

Lazily, with a twist of tongue and a gentle tug of teeth.

It's chaste, but perfect, because Jim knows how to kiss. He does, he'll never deny it. And while he has not romantic attachment to this man. He finds him pretty damn sexually appealing, and somewhere within him he feels that 'tug' that clawing feeling that drags him to this prince, this man.

Spock seems to snap out of his reverie in seconds pinning Jim breathlessly back to the wall once more.

“Touch me so again, before the claim, and I will have your head.”

Jim lifts his hands in defense.

 

“Well... not what I'd expect after a kiss, but... not the worst response I've ever had.” Jim answers. But instantly curiosity lights the taller mans eyes. A single brow raised in question.

“You'd be surprised how many aliens find human 'warmth' uncomfortable, and my touch ill advised.” Not disturbed in the slightest.

“Your warmth...is not uncomfortable, and your touch is not... unpleasant.”

“Well, thank you, Mr. Spock.” Jim looks to the double doors that now open for their presence.

“Now if you'd be so kind, send me to my quest?”

Spock thinks that over a moment, grabs Jim by the arm, (who sends the half-human a nasty wince.) While he's taken to his new steed.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments, opinions, stuff, would be GREATLY appreciated.


	8. Kre'nath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> kre'nath; bastard, illegitimate child, literally the shamed one

 

 

He's given no more time with the prince, this being he's only just met and still something, a place within his chest says that he's known him a life time. It settles warm and thick in his throat like honey, and heavy in his stomach like bread. Absorbing and taken.

His journey will be difficult to say in the least, he should be thinking about where to go first, how to continue, how the hell is he going to do this with such primitive supplies.

Spock spared him not even a look while he's set upon a sehlat and sent on his way to the desert beyond.

He remembers this route, remembers the way he took here too. How he almost died on his trek through the desert. That was no picnic.

It grows to evening time, and Jim sets his tent close to a stretch of rocks out of the open but not too far into the crag that he risks being spotted by cave dwelling le'matya. And on this first night he meditates instead of laying down, maybe, if he continues what the elder did. Maybe he can really concentrate on his task. (Jim's good at tasks, but between surviving, his last words to Spock...)

The sand speaks to him, this planet is so untouched, something about it and everything it means to these people.

When he closes his eyes, he can feel the sunset, sitting under his tent with it's flap of a door open. Going from scorching heat, to dreary cold in minutes. Jim wraps under a cape, and wonders how he'll get any sleep from this shoddy cover for wind.

Concentrating on a warm light within him. It is what it is, a light, warm and vibrant of crimson. Rippling like red velvety batter for a cake. Familiar and pleasant, dark and sultry. Spiced and hot.

Jim lets out a moan, it's heat like he's never felt before, creeping up all over his body. A rhythmic thudding like a mellow drum.

_What are you, what is this? How do I feel this in such blistering cold?_

He falls asleep in minutes, cradling himself in a cocoon. Into something nonexistent.

This is how it is for a week, He finds a safe spot, cradles himself and falls into that same pool of red. Quivering until he feels nothing again and puddling into wreck. But a good kind, a warm kind. This meditation stuff makes so much more sense now.

But he's out of water today, and he's not sure how far from a clean source he is. This devastating heat already getting the best of him, the cold does just the same. Bitter and dry.

He's not getting any better, it's not getting any better. His _sehlat_ can go a lot longer without water which is great but it does Jim nothing. What is he to do? So he passes along sand in this boiling desert and from afar he see's two warriors on gallivanting beasts. It seems almost like a mirage at first, but closer and closer they get. Through the simmering far away sky and down a spacious dune.

Jim readies his lirpa and for good reason, because as these warriors catch sight of him they begin to cry out for battle.

He is not afraid, and that is something incredible to find within yourself.

“ _I'm not afraid of you!”_

He cries in their native tongue, they charge him in an attempt to flank him. But instead he jumps off his sehlat. “ _Ipa_ , lay down!” The beast does as she's told. Jim who jumped to lie down has injured both of the oncoming sehlats with one outreach of his lirpa. Tripping, crippling one, and harming the other.

This is life or death.

“ _I do not want to fight you. Stand down!”_

Jim commands, lifting his heavy weapon as he sweats like a mad man. Drenched from head to toe in liquid he cannot drink, and he is so very thirsty, just the idea of water makes him lick his lips. One female charges him, growling; the other is buried beneath her beast. Good thing, as it buys Jim a bit of time.

It's parry, its blunt weapon on another. Her lirpa is adorned, nicer than his, sturdier than his, and his own breaks in half. _“Stop! I don't want this at all!”_ Jim begs. But this is what they want and even though his weapon is broken, he dual wields each end.

The warrior gets one in on him, slicing open a horizontal line over the breast of his tunic, blood dripping in a spot that would have been fatal if only an inch deeper. But she cannot know, she aims side ways as if his heart belonged there. This, is his advantage, plus, years of combat training due to Star Fleet.

Blocking with the large blunt end and using the sharp to slice at her throat.

Succeeding much to his dismay, yet luck. She crumples down holding her neck, gasping for breath and Jim pants. Staring down at her. There is no hope for the Vulcan all the way out here.

The other warrior finally charges with a terrorizing scream.

“ _M-My T'hai'la!”_

Jim instantly feels her sorrow, but he's being charged at once more. So he dodges and falters, falls to his knees. Weapon useless. _“I-I grieve with thee.”_

He says, and doesn't know why, it's new on his tongue but it feels right. It does.

“ _I will not grieve your death, beast!”_

Aiming to stab him down with a large dagger, yet Jim has other idea's. With the best grasp he can muster. He reaches for the other warriors lirpa, blocking the hit, and now desperately trying to push the warrior away from him. The dagger nearing his chest moment by moment.

Swiping to brandish her away, he gets a slice to his shoulder but lives without a mortal wound no less. He cannot even believe he still drips in perspiration like this. Can't believe there is this much liquid in his body. But alas, he is here, and the woman attacks again. Swiping her dagger wildly, something so sick about her eyes. Her face angry and pulled, violent and so inhuman; was Spock even capable of such anger? Such destruction?

The thought through his head, even when he ducks once more and slices the woman right across the knees. Deep gashes that send her into the sand, but she is not finished. Angrily she curses over and over. Pulling her dagger up to get him again, he backs off but into a very enraged sehlat who's teeth are bared, a claw ready to rip his head clean off. When...

Ipa, his own steed cuts in and takes out the larger threat. Jim, however holds back on the warrior, keeps backing up.

“ _I don't want to kill you.”_

“ _You already have!”_

“ _I have not, you breath now, what's else could I do?”_

“ _You killed my T'hai'la! You fool, you kre'nath! She was my one and only and you slaughtered her!”_

“ _She was trying to kill me! Would you ask that I submit to death?”_

The Vulcan charges once more, so with the blunt end of his lirpa he knocks her right in the head. Sending her out like a rock and into the sand.

Alive. He lives another day.

Then another, and another, with plenty of water that he took from the two female Vulcan's earlier. He keeps count of the days on the paper that is to be his map with little ticks. Marks the paper like he would on earth. (In fives.)

Yet he's only on his ninth day, in the middle of it, when he realizes he is very lost, very uncertain, and very, very thirsty.

Again.

So he wanders atop Ipa, he follows the breeze, hopes for a village or an oasis, and no he finds nothing. The night comes too late, and then it's harsh and cold. Leaving Jim's skin cracked and peeling off of his lips, and finger tips. Loud gusts, of stone and valley, whispering. It's spiritual. Jim thinks, laying there on his side and watching the stars turn in the dark red sky.

He remembers how peaceful Spock looked after meditation, how that elder lived so calmly, so serene in the midst of nothingness. So the captain, no, the human.

The alien, the man who did not belong here, belonged at home...

But it is...Illogical.

To sit and want something that's impossible.

It's impossible.

So he has to accept what is here for him, and if Spock is right, if this light in his chest is really what it is.

Maybe, just maybe, he can get a shred of normalcy, maybe he'll be recognized.

Either way, he can't just give up.

So he moves, like a rusty automaton, unfolding from his side. Hair and tunic fluttering in the icy wind. The cave rock is still warm from the Vulcan sun, hot even, but it does very little for his aching, dehydrated, body.

He's letting go of his old name, his old status, who he used to be.

Jim is not a captain.

He is not anyone.

He is a creature.

He will make his own here.

And so he meditates, and it starts as darkness of his own design and nothing but sound. Then soon, not quite exactly soon, but a little under an hour passes and he's in some warm headspace. No longer are his bones brittle, or his lips dry, but warm like silk, like the nectar Vulcan's use to sweeten their grain.

He's facing another meditating form, and he cannot see anything but darkness and another outline of more abysmal darkness. In his mind, he reaches for this figure, fingers just barely grazing, and a hand shoots out like lightning to grab him.

“ _I did...not think this possible...”_

Jim hears a deep voice in fluid and mind numbing Golic.

“ _Spock...”_

Not even a question, he still can't see Spock, nor can he make the feeling of a face, a body, just...warmth... cupping his arm.

“ _We are T'hai'la...”_

“ _You act as if you haven't already stated this...”_

“ _It is... it was... unlikely...”_

“ _Yes, and I agree... I didn't know your kind could connect... quite like this.”_

“ _We...cannot.”_

Jim thinks deeply on this, wonders for a split second if his imagining all of this. But no, he really, truly feels Spock.

“ _Well, if you take away the impossible, whatever is left, however ridiculous... has to have truth.”_

“ _It has happened, only few times in our history... but it is not widely accepted...”_

“ _Have you ever been 'widely accepted' Spock?”_

“ _No...”_

“ _I guess I don't have to try and convince you that, we are this bond, we are T'hai'la...”_

“ _And you will succumb to it? You will... come back?”_

“ _Maybe, you think you can wait...”_

He tries to calculate how long he'll be, but comes up short.

“ _...An indefinite, amount of time?”_

“ _You will only live to about 98 Vulcan years... considering I will live much longer. I will no doubt be able to bide at least this amount.”_

Laughter, Jim's laughing in a link, a link between two minds that are now as one and it is gold, it is beautiful, sunlight and hot dessert sun. Spock, would not speak of it, but it sends a pleasure to his body that no other sound has ever created.

“ _I'll try not to fall off a cliff.”_

“ _A wise decision, although you are adept at falling prone. Perhaps focusing on one primary goal would be easiest.”_

More laughter, but subtle this time, it still provides Spock the previous spark of pleasure.

“ _Well, of course, Mr. Spock. Very wonderful of you to care about my well-being. I'll make sure to remember my aptitude and endeavor to survive.”_

Pure humor.

But things begin to get fuzzy, their connection is weakening.

“ _Parted, from me, but never parted... I will meet thee...”_

And it's gone and Jim opens his eyes to harsh cold air once more, and it wrecks his body, he falls over and is gone from the world.

“At the...appointed place...”

A whisper that not even Spock would have heard.

-w-w-

 

When he wakes, it is hot, and his skin has somehow lost even the barest minimum of moisture. He realizes how much he misses his sweat, any kind of sweet moisture, or perhaps even Spock's luscious voice.

It seems hopeless, he walks but it's hunched and pathetic. He moves, but its slow and desperate. His body creaks and grows heavy. Heavier than anything he carries.

He falls clean off of Ipa.

_Oh T'hai'la..._

He finds himself wishing and then remembers what the elder told him just 10 days earlier...

“ _ _Become someone here, become something that will change our time. Just as you would have in your own world.”__

How could he? How? Would something like this be even enough to sate the people of Spock's clan?

Something like this, is a duty to the emperor of sorts, sure, but will they truly ever let him be his own man? Not some escort to the prince, some face washed away from history.

“ _ _The needs of the many, outweigh the needs of the few or the one.”__

This thought makes him collapse to his knees, what is he even doing here? What can he possibly do?

Sitting there on his knees, Jim starts to lose consciousness.

No! Not now! He's not ready to die, not ready to leave the universe and just when he thinks his eyes will shut. He's doused.

It isn't rain, the air is clearly arid, the heat is still here... no change in the wind.

No, but when he looks up from his thoughts he doesn't know what to expect.

Except it's precisely the opposite of what he could have conjured in his head;

A little boy, with a large satchel and a (now empty) bag of water.

He wears little clothes, his features are awkward, large nose, thin lips, large ears, big hands and feet.

Jim blinks up in confusion.

“ _Forgive me, I should be thanking you for the water, but... who are you?”_

Not even reaching to wipe the water off of his own face, even as it drips into his eyes, some of the droplets fall into his mouth and it is pleasing.

The boy reaches into his satchel, opens another bag of water.

“ _I am Kre'nath.”_

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I know it's a little slow, but next chapter we'll get more action. Not nearly as much Spirk interaction as this chapter but, still, action. Please let me know how you're liking this in the review section. It really helps me, and inspires, motivates me, all the time.


	9. Kaiidth

Jim gives one long look to the child before him, eyes above him. Rather lanky for a little one, with little fingers he can barely believe he stands here so capable this far into the desert. Then again, Jim isn't quite sure how far he is outside of Shi'kahr. (Which is what Spock had called their city before.)

“ _You are... I see...”_ Jim knows what this word means, but refuses to call this child such a thing. So derogative in its tone.

“ _See what?”_

“ _That depends, if I'm still conscious or not, I see a young man, who holds an entire satchel of water...”_ Jim grins a little deprecative, he doesn't know what is to become of him. Might as well try for this water.

“ _I do.”_

Something dry, witty, eyes scanning over the alien. Jim, is the outsider, and no he will never forget. Out here while he is on the brink of death.

“ _What are you?”_

“ _I am a human, I am not from...here.”_

“ _Clearly. Where do humans 'thrive' if not in this desert?”_

Well spoken twerp, that’s for sure.

“ _In temperamental climates, with rivers, lakes, lots of trees...”_ Looking overhead. _“And clouds.”_

“ _Rare... you were not wise coming to this place.”_

Can't really argue with that, except, _“I had no choice. In fact, I did not know I would survive the landing here.”_

“ _You traveled through the sky? Yes? Through the stars thousands of miles away?”_

Really? They are gonna have this conversation here? While this Vulcan child sips from his newly opened packet of water. Jim licks his lips, as if it'd do much to quench his thirst.

“ _Spare me some water? Just a drink?”_

The Vulcan child seems to process this and eye Jim warily.

“ _If I give you water, there will be less for me. Tell me now, why should I give you? A human as you state, water?”_

Jim shakes his head, he's not really 'with it' at the moment. Doesn't know how to explain anything really. _“I am only a man, with a journey, and nothing much to offer... except, for my service. I can help you, if it is something you need.”_

That really is all he has, except some dried jerky, and the map-creating equipment in its splendor (nothing at all glamorous.)

“ _Are you a warrior?”_

Such an odd question, but alas, _“I can fight. I don't know if I qualify among your people... but I can fight...when I am not so... depleted...”_

It's like the child can see right through him, see's the stains of green on his clothes, the lirpa on his back that is the nicest thing he owns. His sehlat, that sits there. While not a sign of a warrior, definitely important to the warrior culture.

“ _So you are alien, modest, and willing to help me?”_ The child says then splays out a hand. A pact. Jim is surprised this child even knows what that is. But it is what it is. _Kaiidth._

He lays out his hand and takes the child's, whom then presses their hands together and to his little bony chest. _“And so it is...”_ Quickly, he offers this golden red creature the packet of water. And Jim, slowly sips upon its contents. Throat too dry to douse his mouth, or drink much faster. Yet the child sits next to him in a bed of sand, the sehlat their only sort of shade.

“How long can a sehlat last without water?” The human asks, sipping and now chewing on jerky. Hungry now that there is water in his belly.

“ _Months, I have never seen a young sehlat die of dehydration. Their natural senses will eventually lead them to a source. It is one thing you have as a Vulcan, if you can separate your supply out just enough. The sehlat will bring you to a source once he has been without for enough time.”_

Nonchalant, as if everyone just knew this information at the top of their heads.

“ _I see.”_ The blonde mutters, then as much as he wants to worry about the task at hand, he really needs to pay his dues.

“ _So you said, you needed my help. What can I do for you, son?”_

The child seems affronted, staring blankly up at Jim like he was smacked across the face. Then blank once more.

“ _I'm sorry, did I offend?”_

“ _No, it is nothing of importance. You are right, I need your help and it will be no easy task...”_

The child stands up, brushes sand off of his chest and rear end, his hair is cut so weird, most Vulcan’s have such long unruly hair with bangs lopped off completely horizontal. But this one, his hair is, well, a Terran way to put it is a 'bowl cut' and severe at that.

“ _I have many friends, friends sold into slavery... we all tried to escape, I was the only one to get away. But now they are in danger of death, or worse, slave work so deadly. They'll die in no time...”_

Slaves, this child, it all makes sense. Jim is a bit perplexed. _“You think, I, a mere man could save this band of children? In some community? Castle? Village?”_

“ _No, I am not naive...”_ Says this child. Fiddling with his tunic, then looking hopeful.

“ _I only promised I would come for them. They are not yet at the castle... it is miles away... they will be camping at an Oasis. One of the few around here... and I know where they are. So yes, I know there are 3 slavers and 4 children.”_

“ _And you know where we are to head? How do you know this desert so well?”_

“ _I was born in these rocks, abandoned by my mother, lived with a deaf, mute, hermit. Please, my story is silly. We have barely two days before they leave again. These slavers are /lazy/ much to our advantage...”_

Jim nods slowly. _“I see... well... if it is what you say, we better get going, son.”_

This time, the child blinks at Jim, so, odd. But nods, _“I thank thee.”_

“ _Well, don't get ahead of yourself, I haven't really saved a thing yet and I don't know how good at it I'll be anyhow.”_

They travel on the Sehlat, Jim will finally get her some water, despite what this child says about the month long ability. It does make sense, seeing as a Vulcan can go almost over two human weeks. Yes, it takes a bit to convert a Vulcan sort of mile, into a human. Or the longer day, the longer hour and so forth. Again, it's not easy at all being a foreigner, let a lone an alien who barely can breath here let alone exist in the sun.

A day passes along, and they sleep with Ipa as a shelter. The tent tonight would be too much time to waste, plus, as the child states. There will be no storm on this night. A useful guide indeed.

On their way to this Oasis, this child sings about desert, and the mountains of Gol, and its caverns. Jim is entranced.

“ _So your friends, are they all orphaned as you say you are?”_ Jim uses such a nice word, a literal word, nothing like _Kre'nath_ that speaks of illegitimacy.

“ _No, they were taken from their families. Of Shi'kahr, and even one of them of importance. Son of T'pring and Stonn... relatives of the great T'pau, Priestess and mother of who is the king...”_

Lifting a hand, _“No, I know who that is. Apparently, I'm supposed to marry that Kings Son....”_

“ _Who? Sybok!?”_ He squeaks, eyes wide.

“ _No, Spock... the younger.”_

The child calms, _“I see...”_

“ _Why that expression?”_

“ _Sybok... many do not know this, but I heard. I overheard... one of these slavers speak of him with the highest regard... he owns us. Or, well, he gets a lot of money, just for giving away his own...”_ The child looks distantly at the desert before them, but Jim is deep in thought.

“ _Why?”_

“ _All I know, is he gets a lot of money, and chosen merchants are untouched by the bandits... children, are often overlooked. Once taken, they are taken... The house of S'chn T'gai, preaches its esteemed anti-slavery movement. At least the type of slavery all the other houses hold to... yet the very Son of Sarek... does what he does...”_

“ _And I don't think, Sarek knows.”_

The child’s head whips up to look at Jim, almost disbelief on his face.

“ _Do not think? Or do not know?”_

“ _He is not an unkind type. Ruthless, yes, but he had the choice to make me a slave. Instead, he gave me a quest... it doesn't seem like his way. Especially where children are involved.”_

“ _So he chooses to marry you off to his son too? No better! Courtesans get...”_

“ _No... that’s, not it either...”_ The boy again, is confused. Naturally.

“ _... We're T'hai'la, I'm not sure if that is a universal thing on this planet but...”_

Apparently it is, the child’s face gapes openly. The most expressive he's ever been, the most blatantly emotive. Just an open book of shock.

“ _Impossible, you are alien...”_

“ _Yes, it really should be, but there isn't really a lie there, he can feel me... in his mind, apparently, all the time...”_

“ _Then you should be able to feel him too, yes?”_

“ _Sometimes...”_

“ _No you should be able to...you should be able to just think his name once, and feel him in your katra...”_

Jim shoots a disbelieving gaze, _“And how would you know?”_

“ _Everyone knows, it is legendary!”_ looking excitable, happy to know its true apparently.

“ _Well...”_ Jim closes his eyes, focuses on his breathing, the way they waddle through the sand atop Ipa, then nothingness, all in just a few seconds.

_Spock..._

He starts to shake, and it has been awhile so when he hears the answer, it shakes him, makes him fall right off of the furry beast.

_**Jim...?** _

Oh sweet heaven! Have mercy! He was paralyzed for at least a half minute, a small Vulcan hovering over him in shock.

Jim wakes, to sehlat drool and a shocked little mug.

“ _So. I tried... the whole... name thing... and...”_

“ _Alright, alright, I believe you alien man, lets get to the Oasis, it's not too far ahead.”_ Surprisingly strong, the boy helps Jim right out of the sand and they are immediately on their way. Through sizzling desert and parched air.

It takes hours, and it's night when they get there, but they leave Ipa a bit behind. The Oasis can't be more than a few yards in diameter, nothing extravagant. But, it is a spring, with some water, while nothing incredible. It is certainly revered as holy by the statue that abides.

“ _So what do we do?”_ Jim asks, doesn't know why he does, but he figures the child would have some sort of plan.

“ _I don’t know, I figured you would be better at something like this.”_

“ _What? Why?”_

“ _Well, originally I thought you were an escaped prisoner, but...”_

Jim squints at him, a sort of, sarcastic eye roll.

“ _Of course.”_

They can just barely hear them, yet Jim's hearing is weaker than the child, who stares into dark night. Listening for him. _“Ah, they have them, they were gonna leave tonight, but they fear the Kings merchants... they can't intercept with those. They'd get caught...”_

That makes sense, _“Okay, so I think...”_ Staring off at the enclave of rock and sand, a tiny bit of green plot illuminated with oil lamp.

“ _I have a plan, and you, will have to help.”_

After much discussion, they get to work.

So it starts like this.

A bit further back, the boy starts to scream wildly, words like 'Help! Help! My parents are dead!'

And Jim sneaks up quite a bit closer, behind a large bit of rocks.

One of the slave traders are up and on watch. The other two /were/ asleep. The one on watch gets up and tells the others to stay put while the boy hides in rocks, out of sight.

With two Vulcan's up and sluggishly looking around. Jim comes out of nowhere and clunks one right in the head with his lirpa... then sets for a run.

He sees the now-awakened and chained children; all huddled together as they gape at him, murmur as he is attacked.

The trader catches up, fast on his feet. So Jim starts to swipe at the measly Vulcan male with little effort to knock him out cold, after just a few parrying strikes.

He hears a yelp, and just barely with the shallow glimmer of oil. The view of the other, much larger trader holding a squirming little scrawny Vulcan that he has come to admire.

“ _Let him go! It's me you want! I want your trade!”_ He hollers trying to get attention.

“ _This little brat! Has been a problem since day one...”_

Reaching for the child’s neck, squeezing tight, and growling profusely.

Jim will not have it! Fear, adrenalin, he hacks the chains off of the others and watches as they all scurry. Then takes a battle charge right at the slaver...

It is like nothing the boy had ever seen...

No Vulcan had ever fought so fiercely on his behalf, man or woman, other or child.

The child is dropped into a coughing heap in cool sand, while the large Vulcan thrusts a huge fist forward to block Jim's attack.

Sure it is bloodied, but the Vulcan laughs and blows him away. Sending the blonde stumbling back, not completely off his footing but a bit off kilter.

“ _I'd say pick on someone your own size, but, you are pretty fat.”_

“ _Shut up, noworld kre'nath! I'll end you with my fat fists!”_ Pulling on these sort of bronze knuckles, more like entire fists.

Jim just feels complacent, cause, of course, of course this guy wants a battle. Yet anger settles under his toes, the coughing of a special child. The way he had the others chained...

A dance in the dark sand, Jim _can't_ be punched with one of those, he just can't let that happen... but it does and he's sent flying back. Large spikes puncture his chest, yet thankfully shallow and more towards his side. Yet another biological savior on his part.

Jim charges once more, sweat, blood, dehydration despite himself.

Somehow, the trader falls backwards, loses his footing, Jim continues forward, and stakes him through the side with the sharpest part of his lirpa.

It disgusts him.

No he doesn't want to take life, its not in his category, its not in his ways. But, to save these children... and others.

He will do what he must.

Jim notices, face down in the sand, a little Vulcan lay... he. The small boy, used himself as a tool to trip the larger Vulcan. To save Jim's life...

With large eyes, shock, heartbreak, Jim stumbles through the sand. Tears pushing through relentless and without permission. _“Ah! No, young one, son... no....”_

He cries, scrambling the child onto his back, the child who remained unmoving.

Sand blowing away, off of his bruised form. Neck turning dark, blood on his lips, eyes closed.

“ _Please. Please...”_

Jim checks for a pulse, and he can't hear it over whispering sands and harsh wind. It's dark, the oil lamp is dimming.

When children, the other children circle around and sit there beside him. He's momentarily taken away from the grieving. The sudden death, mourning.

“ _We're indebted to you...”_ One little girl with hacked short hair says, skinny, tired.

Another pipes up. _“We did not believe the Kre...”_

The girl nudges him angrily. _“We did not believe him when he said he would be back for us...”_

“ _We thought he abandoned us....”_

“ _We are the Kre'nath here... shameful...”_

Jim turns to the unmoving child in his arms. _“If you are not kre'nath, then why is he?”_

“ _No one to claim him, it is well, he returns with who gave him life now.”_ She looks shameful, down into the sand.

Holding the child, he doesn't want to let him go, he can't, something, some life force, everything...

“ _Human, why do you look so upset? Did I fail?”_

A meek little voice, creaky and exhausted...

“ _Ah!”_ Jim gapes, jumps out of his skin. _“You are alive!”_

“ _No I talk and I am dead, of course I am...”_

Jim holds him to his chest.

“ _Ah! Ow ow! My chest... your /squishing/ me!”_

Laughing, the man pulls the boy away and beams. _“Broken ribs?”_

Of course he doesn't look amused.

“ _Yeah, most likely...”_

“ _Rather that than your death, son... lets...”_ Looks to the children. _“Lets chain up some outofit fools, get some water, and head out in the morning. We could all use the rest.”_ It's amazing how they all agree. Chain up the other traders that are alive and leave them out in the sand.

Ipa gets a drink, the children get to bathe. All is right with the universe... at least... for now.

With the Vulcan boy Jim is so fond of, curled up on his chest.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ALMOST GOT YOU THERE...
> 
> I don't want him deads, he too cute. Jim's got a kid now and he doesn't even know it...
> 
> Nasty Sybok >:U More to come, next chappy! RnR please please please!


	10. Sa-fu

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SURPRISE BISH, betcha thought you'd seen the last of me...er, at least until next month right? -eyebrow wiggle-
> 
> I had a burst of inspiration, so sue me. And I think I know how this bad boi is gonna end. So, please, enjoy. I worked really hard on this and I hope it's to your liking.
> 
> ALSO I'm tired of italicizing shit, I should have just freaking, stopped okay. I'm sorry, SO from this point on unless I say otherwise. They are all speaking Vulcan. Okay? Okay. LLAP home slices.

The next day is a lot simpler, with rest came recovery and with a broken bone on his hands and cuts, bruises the like. He has to wrap up the poor boy, and hope to find medicine. They find themselves turning back, so that he can drop the children off back at Shi'kahr. 

“Can you walk, son?” Jim asks, as they make a steady trail back for the great city of Shi'kahr. It took a good 4 days, so they weren’t destitute but rather hungry. 

The four little ones were as follows, T'tona, Varik, Solas and T'par. T'tona was of the house S'chn T'gai, which made matters a little more delicate. But the child with no name lay cradled in Jim's arms all the way back on their journey to the city.

“Yes, but I think it will be painful...” He says, a bit warily. Jim can't walk back into the city, and they both know it. The children don't quite know, and explaining it would be, well, pointless.

“Think you could get these guys back to the palace and retrieve some medicine?” Jim asks, checking him over. “I...”

“No, I understand you cannot return. It is of honor, and respect for the kings word...” Good, well, that wasn't so hard. “I think I will manage, but as you said, we do not have money. Nothing of /real/ worth... so how do I get medicine?”

Useless, Jim feels rather helpless, especially as some foreign part of him. Some deeply un-found hole in his chest is slowly being filled. At the thought of taking care of this boy, being his guardian. 

“I don't know. But I...” 

Varik, pipes up among them. “Human Jim! There is the city! It won't be long!” Excitable, all of them hungry and of course chipper for the home that awaits. Unable to stop the smile from spreading over his golden features, darkened heavily with the sun and hair growing to lightly flip over his golden eyes. 

“Of course, now, I need all of you to listen up... I want you all to get home safely. So you, all of you will follow him.” Placing a hand on the child in his arms, shoulder. 

“Help him, he is hurt, and if you can, get him help. He has a broken bone.” Jim explains, frowning deeply, rubbing at the shoulder. “But its because of is that you are here now, escaped and alive.” 

They nod, agree with Jim, start talking quietly amongst themselves as they get closer and closer to the great city of Shi'kahr. Even in its outskirts it is vast and splendid. 

“So you have a choice, son.” The golden one says, staring at their horizon, and then at the boy. “A few, to be honest.”

The child opens his eyes, blinking up at the one who glows with the sun above. His vulcan eyes can see just fine despite the blazing heat and ray. 

“You can go with them, and stay. Find a family, find an orphanage, I don’t know what is to become of you. But you would make your own way, figure your own path.” He says, and he follows his own heart while he speaks. Like this was meant to be.

“Or you can come with me, I will take you on my journey, and you can help me on my quest for the king.” 

The boy scowls immediately, “What so I perform a task for you helping me?” Unhappy, and Jim sits back to watch his expression with furrowed brows, one raising slowly. 

“I almost died for you! And now what? I become your page? Your assistant?”

Jim barks a heavy laugh, starts to chuckle at this young one for being so silly. But smart, and cute, and just, devastatingly funny. He further cradles the boy with a calming hand to his scrappy spine.

“No.” Finally serious, after shaking his head a few times. “No, son, if you come back to me. I will give you a name, or you can pick one, what ever you choose. I will take you as my own, my own child, raise you, take care of you with all I have.”

Squinting eyes go wide with such vivid surprise, Jim can't help but purse his lips and feel proud of himself. He got the little guy to shut up so quickly. Turn white as a ghost.

Of course the child doesn't answer him, just stares a moment, then away at the sand in silence. Scooting away from Jim's touch. It's not a good sign, but of course he won't pester. He just, gazes ahead, and within minutes he gets the children to the gate (not a large one but still a gate.)

“Just get them to safety, and if you must, use me in the title as Spock's bond-intended.” 

With that, T'tona gapes, but the others drag along so she finally follows after a bow towards Jim. Something taught to court members or royalty, so the rumors might just be true. And the chances they will be helped are great.

“I will be here till morning, if anyone wishes to reach me.” 

Only the child without a name heeds him, staring a moment, then leaving, leading the group inside.

\- - -

“So the human Jim will adopt you? You would be a /prince/, if you take his namesake too! A Prince!” Says Varik, T'tona looks at him scathingly. “You know nothing of royalty, he would only be namesake if S'chn T'gai Spock named him this... of course.” 

Just thinking about that scared him, what would Spock think? Would he turn him away?

Sooner than later he'd get his chance to meet him. When they find a guard, and T'tona properly asks for guidance to the castle gate. It's a little difficult, as they are children and requesting an audience with anyone was going to be hard. T'tona was getting them places, sorta, until they ended up inside the gate around the castle in a room with bars on the window.

“I'm the Son of S'chn T'gai Spock and Jim Kirk the Human!” He declares, with such a loud voice the guards who were laughing at them beyond the gate stare in shock.

“If you are lying boy, that is a very gross offense!”  
“I am not, they are bond-intended! And Kirk has claimed me as his son!” 

T'tona wants to bang her face into the wall, but she just stands there in solidarity. It's not like she can get in trouble. 

Within minutes, a very tall man, beautiful, a circlet on his forehead, with long locks braided in small braids on the sides, deep, dark, and rather otherworldly eyes. He's bare besides a golden cloth with gems low around his hips, his bands around his arms are gold with gems and T'tona drops a very low bow.

This upper class-men, royal (probably), lifts a hand to stop her. 

“T'tona... where have you been?” Stoic, and the young boy thinks, how odd of a person. To be so calm.

“Royal Prince, Spock, we were taken, by bandits.” She explains, knowing that this prince likes honesty and little embellishment. 

Prince Spock, makes the Kre'nath shudder, stare widely above at the man who towers above him. Taller than Jim.

“Who did you say you were, child.”

Swallowing.

“I'm son of Jim Kirk... he told me, he told me that you were his T'hai'la.”

The four children among him gasp, or make sounds of surprise. Except for T'tona who sends another look, sort of disbelieving.

Spock gazes over them, then back at the child. “He took a son, in such little time?”

“He said if I return, if I return by tomorrow, if I wish to be, he would take me as his Son... I...”

“He is here?” Spock gives a dark look at the little boy, leaning down to look at him through the bars. 

Of course he can't help but shake in the sand. 

“N-no, he didn't take us into the city limits, he told me he had an honor to the king, to finish his quest. You-Your highness... if it isn't true I am so...”

Spock lifts his hand again. 

“It is so, he is my betrothed. If you are his son, then you are to be mine if he fulfills his duties to the King and our clan...” He holds a hand out, gesturing for the keys to the stall without even looking at the guard. Who, looks rather mortified to say in the least. 

T'tona, too, is relieved but surprised. 

When they all spring forward to exit, Spock gives orders. “Take them to their families, if they do not have one, bring them to my fathers house. It is well.” The guards salute, take the children who busily explain their homes.

“What is your name child?” Spock asks.

“I do not have one yet... but before... I was referred to Kre'nath... your highness...”

Spock tilts his head, scanning over the child. Bruises, “Your rib, it is broken.” 

The boy looks to the sand. “If I could receive medicine, a stint, I would be inde...”

“Speak of being indebted? This is your house, despite the situation... come. I will have you fed, clothed, and you will receive medical attention.”

“But my journey...” 

“Will continue tomorrow after you have rested adequately.” Spock demands. The boy, does nothing but follow. Hesitant, wary, and full of fear.

Except for hours later.

He is treated...

Like he did not know possible.

They gave him all the medicine he would need, and satchels of food for the journey tomorrow. They give him a bed to sleep in, and it's bigger than Ipa! He's given new clothes, and a hot soapy bath. Waist wrapped properly and stinted in their ways. For healing.

After a large warm meal, he is put in bed, (all by servants of course.)

Hopefully he will not wake up and it have all been a dream. 

\- - -

Jim waits.

He waits and waits then sleeps few hours, worried for the small boy who managed to give him joy and company, and something to care for in a world so empty for him. It is not entirely selfish either, he truly cares for his well-being, only hopes the best for him.

When he wakes the sun is just barely starting to rise over the horizon. 

And he thought he saw something at the gates, as he is facing them. But no, nothing. He scrambles up to sit with his back against Ipa. Eyes forward, rubbing out the sand and the sleep from them. He hums and waits, and waits some more.

The sun rises full and in the sky.

There is no boy.

Perhaps it is wise. Perhaps he found a home. Jim stands up and dusts off. Scarred chest, punctured yet scabbed waist. A re-arranged tunic from the onslaught of battle, he re straps his lirpa. A special knot that makes it easy to draw, readying Ipa for a long journey when he catches sight of it.

Far along in the distance at the foot of the gate, stands a figure far off. With hair flowing wildly around his strong stance in the ruby sands and its copper gate. He wears a side cloak. A belt around his waist with armor around his side to protect his heart. 

It's easy to tell, because there is more skin than clothing. 

Entranced, Jim stares ahead, uncertain. 

Spock.

Until a child pads from behind Spock, fully clothed as it would seem. With a pack on his shoulders, trudging through sand. 

The tall warrior lifts his hand towards Jim, and Jim this whole time had to cup a hand over his eyes just to see.

Fingers spread out, and odd sort of way, unnatural, and it strikes Jim. What is that? He's never even seen that before...

Jim looks to his own hand, pushes his fingers into that certain way, then raises it back. 

A seconds solidarity, until with a smooth turning motion Spock retreats back through the city's gates. 

The boy keeps and even pace and once he gets to Jim, he drops his new bag at the blondes feet. “Food... so do I get a name now?”

Still sort of windswept and woozy, the human sighs. “Certainly, we just, have to play charades for it first.” 

The boy looks ever so confused, and this seems to snap the human right out of his transfixed gaze.” 

“Come on, we have no time to waste out here, and a lot of land to cover.” They saddle up, and it takes only an hour before the boy speaks up again.

“So, a name?”

“Mn, patience, most parents get...er, 10 months here to choose a name for their young.”

A fair enough point, so he becomes silent. “The prince, he took me in, and I even got medicine.” Jim smiles at that, “Good, I'm glad he sought to take care of you. The man isn't as harsh as he looks.” 

“No, he is not...” 

“So, shall we head north?” Jim does say the Vulcan equivalent, but, alas, the boy looks confused.

“North?”

Oh dear god.

“Great, well, I'll have to teach you about that some time where I'm not as confused in the area myself...”

More silence, and maybe the boy would have knowledge of other things, “Well you do know where the oasis are? Right? What else can you tell me about this land?” 

He tells him of the le'matya caverns, the places not to go, the places best, then Jim remembers... 

something that will help guide you that none other shall comprehend 

Scrambling into his bag, he withdraws a very special box. It's odd sort of hexagonal shape, it appears wooden but it is stone, like it is ancient, petrified, and attached to some sort of rope.

“Do you know, what this is?” 

The boy looks awkward, was in the middle of talking through all of this interrupted with a box. Then his brows raise, “Ah! It's a match box... you put matches in there for fire...” He slides his hand around what looks like the edges in a weird way, it pops open. And immediately the child looks disappointed.

“Ah! It's worthless, and, weird!” 

But it is far from worthless, and damn him if he thinks it's weird.

Six-directional, elegantly hand carved...

Compass.

“Oh no son, it is quite more than that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep, a compass, gonna make this a lot easier for Jim. Don't worry, I'm naming the squirt next chappy! Please please please, RnR, yes your reviews help me carry on. A lot. I'm getting a good amount of positive feedback so, why not?


	11. Sonak

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was by-far the hardest chapter to write. Forgive me for the long time. I try to get in one a month at least. Thank you to everyone who RnR'd it helps a crap ton.

“Oh but he took your mount, and most of your pride _Ashayam_. Whatever will you do without it?” The half naked, short, Vulcan of a mate intones. Dark ebony skin, glistened over with sweat and precious oils. He hardly stands a good five feet and a half, but he is strong. An avid runner who uses his petite demeanor to get the better of his foes.

He's only half serious and yet Sybok grunts. It's been weeks and he's not nearly upset about that anymore; only frustrated that this human still lives. Spock saw him, alive, wounded but alive and with a child.

Already with a child for their house!

And its a _fair_ thing too, only _krenath_ can be claimed as full son or daughter of ones house. The luck astounds him, yet he feels it in his very bones that this was all to happen on purpose. This human Jim is Spock's _T'hai'la_ of course.

The gods do not grant this lightly, do not play with the spirits of their kind so daintily.

Sybok knows and understands the way one is drawn to thy mate, hungers, desires, would do anything to receive that blessed binding.

“That alien, will never take my pride...” A low sort of dangerous tune, turning his head. “You live well, in my tent. Not hungry, ravaged, or poor... my pride is intact.”

S'var turns over to lay on his stomach, smiling wickedly at his prince lover.

“Oh? I am this much to my mate... I get chills with the thought.” More sass that Sybok seriously doesn't want to hear right now.

“Silence, I am trying to concentrate. Go tend to your garden, kill for a pelt, do not bother me with your useless banter.”

S'var scowls, Sybok really is on edge and at least more so than usual.

“Fine, whine about your brothers ridiculous _T'hai'la_. The alien won't last this desert in the end, you grow angry over nothing.”

“I am angry, because his very existence threatens our way of life. My name, our name, and you better grow the wiser and try to reason with me. I cannot let him live, gallivant around these lands then come to take my place...”

S'var's shoulders seem to relax, he settles up out of their luxurious bed of silk and fur, settles beside his much larger mate to just barely get a wrap of his hands around the princes' shoulders. Resting his head on Sybok's leather paldron. “Oh love, Sarek only granted the human his freedom. No existing right to your throne. It would be a slap in the face of our people, our soldiers, to accept an outsider to rule beside a second-in-line prince!”

Some silence because there is some truth to what S'var says, but he's not satisfied, not at all with everything that’s happened.

“If only it were that simple. You know of the strange T'manda. The queen ruler beside my father. She too, is a breed of this Alien. My father, finds favor in their kind and could easily steer the public course unless...”

S'var is amazed that Sybok got this far on his own, rolls his eyes. “Exactly, it would be well within your right to expose such madness and show our lands and its people just how askew those humans are. A half breed with a human in place of you?” He frowns.

“It would be foolish.”

Sybok agrees, wholeheartedly.

“Alas, you always know what actions to take, in order to heal my wounds.”

“If you did not receive those all the time, I would never be so well prepared...”

“Silence, before I make you silent...”

“Such an empty threat!” S'var responds, opens his mouth, pearly white teeth a clash to pink tongue and coal flesh. Sybok doesn't let his jaw hang open without cause for long. His mate has no complaints, but the high prince still holds devastation in his thoughts.

\- - -

It has been well over a month into Jim's journey now. Only five days since he and his new adopted son took route to the north. He carefully cartographed what he had with his training. He knew the general overall shape from being in space. Even just a short time, with his eidetic memory, it was simple to place route and city to map.

His son, whom asked him every day for a name since, basically made his own name.

“Than you know of _Spokhs'_ history?” Jim asked, curious as ever.

“I know as much as I was told. I know that his father is _Sarek_ , before him _Sonak_ and before him..."

I'pa traveled along the rugged sandy terrain of what Jim was told, is called, _cheleb-kohr_. He labels it on his map while they journey to the northern most part of Vulcan, not terribly far from their destination. Passing the great cities, with little contact.

 “Wait...” Jim mumbles, placing a hand on his new sons little shoulder. “Sonak.”

The boys eyes widen, “But such an honor...”

“Would be fitting, for a boy who saved my life. A brave boy, who is now my son? Yes?”

He stares in shock, Jim kisses the top of the boys head.

“Do you accept your new name, Sonak?”

A slow nod, before catching himself. “I'm sorry, father, I, yes Sonak is more than acceptable...”

“Good. Cause I really didn't have another idea otherwise.” Smiling brightly at the child, who smiles a little back. Realizing that while Jim was this creature of gold, fierce and unusual. He also had a soft quality he had never met in any of his own kind.

No one ever wanted to acknowledge the _krenath._

But, Jim did.

“Go! I'pa, a little faster?” Jim asks, guiding with his thighs as one would a horse.

They do go faster, sand searing into his skin; not something he isn't used to as of late. Dried jerky and grasses their main food source, hot water their only source of sustenance as precious as a jewel out here in the deserts of old.

Sonak tells him it will only get cooler, not terribly cold but cooler as they hit the north. And closer to a temperament climate of earth at the very pole. The child had never been this far from _Shi'kahr_ , but he had heard the stories. The legends.

So past the kingdom of _Ta'riah_ , _fort Aba'kur_ , and into _Tat'sahr._

They journey, unknowing of what lies in wait for them.

They map out every bit of land between the two seas, the only two seas Vulcan has. The _Voroth_ and the _Thanar_ , edge to edge, line to line. Sonak would hold parchment open for Jim as he drew, as they traveled. Guide I'pa as he took note.

Like Lewis and Clark in the desert of an Alien planet, nothing even Jim could ever have thought up in his most vivid of imaginations.

There was some math in this, and the training he received in his high school days that he never thought would be necessary and then yet, played great part in this.

So it was, over 5 months into his journey and after finding the north, that Jim would take the route on the other side of the _Thanar_ sea.

“We must be careful, Here in _Han-shihr_... the hunting tribe of the _Da-leb_ sit here and prey over any visitor who visits...” Sonak frowns deeply.

“If there's one thing I've learned in my past, it is dealing with strangers in an unknown territory.” Jim is sheepish, not terribly worried; then again, he wonders if he should with the way Sonak seems unsettled.

They had just received plenty of goods from a merchant in _Kel_ , following the jagged lines and canyons of the _Thanar_.

He tried every night.

Every night since _Sonak_ returned to him from _Shi'kahr_ , to contact Spock as he once had. To no avail.

He'd trace his souls fingertips along imaginary skin. Call to a Vulcan who was thousands of miles away, breathing, living, thriving, at such a long distance.

Of course Jim doesn't know him, but he can't help but be so fascinated with the man he's apparently tied to. Evidently so.

Sonak sings while he draws at night, and tonight it echoes in the canyons while he sketches. Jim smiles, listens to the natural re-verb the wall of rock provides and somehow it has slowly become his home. The human dons less clothing, but found a simple oil from sea-faring brush that protects his skin.

He nearly matches the terrain, with tanned skin, bleached hair, and eyes like honeyed wines of _Nal'shin._ Around the world he is renowned as the golden warrior.

The soft, low-tenor voice leads Jim to drift. Seated with his legs crossed, while he dreams of this Vulcan once more.

Of harp, and the darkest eyes.

Calling into their _katra's_ ether.

Again he see's the beginning of his mate-to-be. Etched out of shadow and starlight.

_Golden one, you reach for me too much. Your energy will be lost without cause._

 

Says a voice familiar, but nearly long lost. Jim smiles because it sounds annoyed.

 

_You have not answered because you worry for my health?_

 

A moments silence.

 

_Perhaps. I answer now for this same cause; why do you call upon me?_

 

Jim laughs, doesn't realize that it flows through their bond. Doesn't know it will seep into Spock's soul and light him from within.

 

No, not a soul, he thinks in such human terms, but he knows that he cannot think this way anymore.

 

He lives among Vulcan’s, breaths among these desert dwelling, violent, creatures.

 

It is a _Katra._

 

_I do not know you, but I am going to have to bond with you. Eventually, perhaps I will make good use of my extra time and learn of you. As much as I can._

 

This human says this as if its the simplest thing in the world. As if every person Spock has ever tried to bond with, has not rejected him entirely.

 

_You would bond so soon?_

 

_And you wouldn't?_

 

Spock thinks deeply on the subject.

 

_Perhaps, if I see you as worthwhile._

 

More gentle laughter on Jim's part.

 

_Oh, you sound like you haven't made up your mind. I honestly don’t see the reason in dating if our minds are already this... compatible._

 

Spock changes the subject.

 

_I have heard from the north, you have made many stops in kingdoms afar. You have a presence and it would be wise to show caution._

 

Why this whole conversation has given Jim light and humor, he doesn’t know. But it does.

 

_Oh, and you've worried for me dear?_

 

Silence on Spock's part.

 

_No._

 

_Now, harsh as you sound about now. I doubt you don't care, I could very well have your heir and son in my capable hands. My work is, underway..._

 

_I did not say that I do not care._

 

_Spock?_

 

_You are something of a rumor here._

 

_What do you mean?_

 

_A mystery, Jim. No creature here can place you, can understand your ways. My brother has mentioned you with nothing but anger. When he is angered, there is nothing that he cannot manage._

 

_Ha! You fear the very fool who's tried to kill me twice and failed._

 

_Jim do not misunderstand, I know you are...formidable. But he has great allegiance in the north. Do not be blind._

 

Jim knows when he must listen, that Spock is probably right. So takes everything this man says with complete trust.

 

_I understand. And I... I thank you, my mate. I'll heed you, I'll keep my eyes open, but you must promise me. One thing._

 

Spock is deafeningly silent, so much so that a shiver rolls up his spine.

 

_Yes, Jim?_

 

_Do not guard from me. Please._

 

_Jim..._

 

_Please._

 

More silence.

 

_I am alone in this world, Spokh. I have Sonak, but a child will never understand the complexity of what I feel. Alone in this world all fire and violence, but you are not like the rest of these people, either. Yes, Spokh? You live differently, breath differently, I feel it now, how your heart beats. Not quite like the others and somehow, I am drawn to you._

 

_Jim, that is completely...Sonak?_

 

_Real, understandable, obtainable. I travel far, I am here at the northern most place of the Thanar and I tell you. Spokh, I am coming back. I will have my freedom. Only to want to learn more of you, a man of two worlds. Sonak; our son. I'm sure you've met him..._

 

_Am I some hybrid to marvel at? Is that what you wish?_

 

Spock is obviously amazed but also peeved. It tickles Jim to feel him this way.

 

_No! Spokh don't do that, don't say that. That's, not what I mean..._

 

_Than what do you mean?_

 

_You entrance me._

 

Jim can feel Spock's breath taken away from him, smiles at the thought.

 

_Yes Jim, I will not guard. But do not use our link so lightly._

 

_Of course, I should contact you again unless there is emergency, in 16 days. I will pass the Kel..._

 

_The Kel?_

 

_Yes, I have to map everything. Dear, but I am..._

 

_Tired. Sleep well, strange human._

 

A gentle chuckle, and Jim falls asleep at his make-shift desk on a large slab of stone. Sonak ends up tucking him away from the harsh desert chill, curling in right next to his father who he has grown so very fond of, very quickly.

 

When he wakes he is refreshed, and Spock's name is on his lips. Eyes blinded with the sun he is still not quite used to.

Sonak has most of their things packed.

“ _Sa'mehk_! Are you ready?” Sonak says rather cheerfully. Feeding I'pa.

“Mn, of course. I'm just... not so used to this, insane, amount of heat.”

“But you've been here so long already! And you're still not used to it?”

“I'm a human. My planet is over 70% water... and cold, cool, refreshing pools of crisp bright cerulean. Sometimes even large islands worth of ice float in the waters. Massive and fresh.”

Sonak gapes, “Incredible! You will have to tell me more of this place. That much water could buy you a whole fortress!”

Jim chuckles, “Ah, but if only? It's pennies worth on earth.”

“What!?”

“Cheap, clean, reusable. We'd take showers twice a day if we like and keep pools full of it not for drinking but swimming and bathing.”

“Insane!”

Now the human is full-on laughing, patting the small back of Sonak who is guiding their steed through sand at a mornings leisurely pace.

\- - -

How they live through this mapping in incredible, word passes through to the separate tribes like wildfire. Jim is a legend and Sarek is pleased.

Not only learning of their heir's name, but of the progress in turn.

Amanda prays for Jim.

Spock ponders and meditates.

Sybok plots.

While the rest of the world talks of this outsider in Vulcan armor.

\- - -

The human who sets up trade with the _Da'leb_ for _Shi'kahr._

Who faces warriors who pirate the desert sands.

Worries from _Da'leb_ to _Kwil'inor_ to _Go'an_ and into the great kingdom of _Vulcinis._

This great outpost of rich spices and jewels is where Jim ventures next. Now 11 months into his journey and tired, stretched thin, he plans on getting his first room in an actual inn. With a roof, and a full meal, a bath.

A soldier greets him in, and he's treated well. I'pa stays in a feeding outpost a ways out. But Jim takes his things with him, and of course, Sonak.

They get a cool bath, as well as a hot one. Swim around for a bit until Jim is too waterlogged and Sonak weakened by the sheer amount of water. He settles him poolside, and starts to teach him about north, south, east and west.

“So north is at this pole? Right here?”

“Yes, and this is east... and this is west. _Kir'ahl_ is at the east and _Jaleyi_ is at the west...” Drawing onto his current map. Using a Vulcan Compass he drew at the bottom, he's taught Sonak quite a bit. The young Vulcan now knows basic writing skills and grammar. Just from copying Jim's work onto his own piece of parchment.

No one ever taught the child math, or reading, or writing. But Jim took part. He was a teacher at the academy. He teaches this child all that he can with what he has, every day.

“One day, I will take you to the library in _Shi'kahr_ , and you can learn even more.”

“Hopefully, soon.” Sonak sounds a little wistful, but stares straight ahead into his paper. Writing away.

“Of course, soon. We are doing our best to finish this... if you would wish. I can take you back to Shi'kahr, where it is safe, where Spokh will certainly...”

“No!” Sonak says wildly, as if the mere idea makes him sick. “Not without you, _sa'mehk_.”

Clinging to Jim and pressing his face into the older mans chest.

Patting the boys back, “Of course, if that, is really what you want...”

A slow nod into his chest, and Jim doesn't press further.

“Now, now, we need to get a meal in our bellies and some rest. We have to set out in the morning...”

Sonak excitedly stands up, tries to help Jim up but gets waved off with a frustrated sort of look.

“I'm not that old...” Jim scowls, touching his hair and then his belly.

“You are to me! Come on, don't be slow! I'm so hungry!”

All he can do is laugh, beam like sunlight at the sight.

Not realizing that there is a pair of eyes watching him from afar.

 


	12. Kin-tukh Puksu

Every day he hears it from two servants, cleaning the bathing pools. Soldiers in the barracks in deep conversation, jesting, or jeering over he who is _Kin-tukh Puksu,_ Golden Warrior. Who frees enslaved children, who fights the terror _T'hai'la_ duo of western sands and defeats them. Incredible tales that Spock only partially believes. Yet he knows there has to be some sort of honesty in the midst of so many legends.

There are a few reasons he's let this whole bond-intended facade continue. One, it keeps his father out of his personal life. What ever Spock chooses to do, Sarek willfully allows it. In fact, Spock has been free to do anything and all that he wants.

No mate to worry about, no child to bring forth, everything that his father has ever wanted for him exists. Even better, it exists miles away, and Spock is not required to do anything but wait.

So in this time, he does as he desires.

Long hunts in the outskirts, the re-building and lengthening of the wall around _Shi-kahr_. He's a busy man, but not even the least bit over worked.

Today he watches performers in the streets, do an interpretation of his very own mate-to-be. His bond-intended. They paint him as honorable, his brother as a fool, and Spock as a...

Well, apparently as a jilted lover like a woman in lipcolor, who thinks Sybok has affections for his mate.

They have literally cast a woman for his part.

Deciding to ignore that, Spock turns back to his home. A gift for his mother from his last travel tucked under his arm. Body well disguised with a well-wrapped cape. One he wears to conceal, or to protect his body in the cold Vulcan night.

He brings her a new tin of spices, also a satchel of mixed seeds. Many different herbs and vegetables mixed inside.

Spock thinks of his predicament, what he will do if Jim gets back.

When, Jim gets back.

Something deep within tells him that it will be so.

Something warm, and spiritual, comforting and necessary.

When they speak of Jim, its with the mind of a story teller, like its make believe. In Spock's own mind, he is very real; a living breathing being, able to tell right from wrong and good from evil.

Another Vulcan would laugh at these sorts of opinions, but alas, Spock is no ordinary Vulcan.

And Jim is capable of free thought, there is no way such a man will desire the hybrid in the end. Will even need him in the end, with his freedom and name intact. Jim will be able to do every and anything he wants, be with whom he wants. Raise the child in a way he sees acceptable.

Spock would not take this from him.

It is also why he has not set his heart upon the humans return.

Not that he does not believe Jim capable, but that he buffers his heart with silk and stone. Keeps himself from any injury, because the truth is a scary thing.

Spock needs Jim more than the other way around and it leaves insecurity he does not enjoy. A security he selfishly and instinctively desires, whether or not specifically from this kin-tukh puksu still is something to be seen.

\- -

It's early morning and they're playing in the communal bath for some time, Sonak does a running dive into the deepest end and Jim lets his feet soak while he sketches outskirts onto the stretch of parchment. Set on making perfect renditions of what he's seen above on a ship and what he's scaled so far. It isn't perfect in its mechanisms, but he figures he could hire someone to define the edges some time in the future.

His own time is devoted on the important things, distances between poles, already knowing how big the planet is, how far it was from the hot Vulcan sun proved to help him greatly with his cause.

When he goes to dip his pen back to ink, he realizes its gone empty and he left his bag in the room nearby. It doesn't contain any of his money or food, that would be foolish, but it has some extra quill, ink, and an extra dagger stashed under the pillow.

“Perhaps we'll stay one more night.” He thinks out loud, seemingly a thought from nowhere. Sonak smiles as he does some sort of a doggy paddle through the pool.

“Yes! Does that mean we'll eat out again tonight?” They'd gotten extra coin from the last bunch of slavers they eliminated. Sonak was so cute, pitch black hair wet and curled around his face, stuck to his chin and neck.

Jim chuckles at the sight, remembering what it was like to be a boy, excited, earnest and playful. “Yes, I suppose we will. Listen.” He asks for attention and easily gets it, the boy not only loves his new father but respects him a whole hell of a lot more.

Of course, he's never openly admitted to such deeply felt things, but Jim had his suspicions.

“Yes, _Sa'mehk_?”

“I've got to go back to our room, I'll be right back, you stay right here and if you need me...”

“I know, I know, run till you can't and scream if I have to.”

Jim nods a strong motion of chin and neck, then retreats to their room, which has a door that leads right to the pool. Otherwise he'd never leave dear Sonak alone like this.

Upon entering, he is immediately ambushed and makes a stammering sound. A gasp of sorts, when a knife is pressed to his throat and the person who is cloaked head to toe in fabric makes a hissing sound.

“Hey now--” He says rather loudly, in fact, Sonak would have been able to hear if it weren't for the fact that he was swimming underwater.

“Shhh...” Says the voice that Jim now suspects is a woman.

The door's fabrics swish behind them cutting out the light and some sound from the outside world.

“And--” Jim winces as she presses the blade tighter to his throat in retort, his voice too loud. “Why should I do that?” Voice quieter, but he's not exactly going to shut up.

“Because I've got two skilled archers trained on your child and I'll go that far, test me.”

She's bluffing, and Jim can tell but still, he closes his eyes and thinks of a way out of this situation.

“Don't harm him, you can do what you want with me, but don't harm him...”

There's a low throaty sort of chuckle that raises the hair on the back of his neck and makes it that much harder to think. Hair that's gotten much too long for his tastes and clearly needs a good cut as it grows shaggy and so un-vulcan-like that it draws a particular amount of attention.

Attention he really doesn't want right now to be honest.

“And why should I? You kill our kind like we're vermin and plague this place with your alien filth. Your son would only seek vengeance among our kind...”

“I've heard of your voice before.”

He bluffs, okay, so he's probably heard her voice once. Maybe. Okay, a little... but he wants to see how easy it is to make her walls come crumbling down because the only way he's getting out of this is with the skill of a star ship captain.

 

“What?”

She says, not terribly shocked, but almost scandalized, as if she thought it'd be impossible.

“You, you're from the Sch'nn T'gai kingdom, are you not? I've heard of you before, you're not just a typical common lady from the outskirts, either.”

So many guesses, and with the way her hand hesitates, Jim smiles. But she can't see, only feel a positive air radiating off of Jim somehow.

In that smooth second of hesitation, Jim steps on her foot and so hard you can hear a sharp crack of bone. He elbows her back wards as she wobbles back from the pain in her toes, he grabs the small tent of fabric that covered her mouth, ripping it away so that both that and the blade go sprawling over onto the floor. Jim and this assassin of sorts tackle sideways to catch it.

She gets her fingers on it first, to which Jim scrabbles for purchase over it's handle. A wrestle of life and death until Jim catches the familiar face before him, eyes widening in surprise.

“T'pring.”

It's a court lady of sorts, rich, a powerful bloodline of Spock's homeland and an heiress no less.

She gasps and they both stop, Jim stares ahead at her.

“Why you?”

Her sneer falters a little, “I was supposed to marry Spock, and now he would have you. It ruins my family's good name--”

“Bullshit.”

Wide almond eyes stare at Jim as both of their hands grip the knife. To her surprise, Jim lets go.

“No, I call that one. You don't want Spock, you never did. So tell me again; why?”

Wondering perhaps if he killed her lover or something, more than status. This woman wasn't all about status, at least to what he's heard around the kingdom in his days there.

“I...”

“Look, Spock already knows you're here. He already knows you've just tried to kill me.” A huge bluff, but Jim sounds pissed enough to be believable. Even though that blade is pressed into his side, inwardly he thanks the heavens that Vulcan anatomy is so much different than his. Even though if she were to stab there, it wouldn't be pretty.

“You lie!” Her face twists into a nasty sort of scowl, despite how beautiful it is.

“No, no I don't, we're _T'hai'la_ , T'pring.” Voice strong, unwavering even in the face of her threatening actions.

“He knows you are after our son, after my life, and now there is no way to turn back from this grievance. You'll go home, the blame will fall on you and your house. Then, you will die along with everyone else; is that what you want?” He spits.

Vulcan eyes widen impossibly so, and she drops the knife with a heavy clank to the floor. Shaking a little, crawling off of her side to hold her face.

“Oh by the Spirits...” She curses, angry sobs starting to slip up out of her throat.

“-- I didn't kill you. I still didn't...”

“I know...”

“So then you must see reason...”

“I do.”

She was going to argue further, beautiful when she cried not an ugly scrunch of face he's seen on many before.

“What?”

“Spock and I are willing to ignore this, to let you go. But only if you go quietly, and never harm our family again...”

Hope. Bold and true spread across her elegant features. A woman he'd bed if she hadn't just up and tried to kill him.

Probably.

“And...”

She frowns a little.

“You must tell us, who did this. Go before the King and tell him of who is at fault.”

T'pring starts to slowly nod, shaking her head in disbelief at the knife on the floor. “I will, I will. But Spock will not kill me? He is not angry?” Still wary, uncertain.

“Oh I never said that, no, I didn't, in fact, if you go around telling people you were my intended assassin I'm sure he'll have you executed and honestly even I don't want to see that.”

“Why? Why not? I just tried for your life, your child’s life...”

“And like I said before, its not like you really want me dead. Nor Sonak's life on your hands, so tell me and be square. Don't lie, and don’t think you can get away with it...

Who?”

Her face goes positively blank, weighing her options, which, are limited of course but only because she'd fallen for a very serious bluff.

“Sybok, Sybok the high prince of _Shi'kahr_...”

Jim's mouth presses into a tight line, anger bubbling up from his belly and in through his veins.

“So I suspected.” He stands up too, wiping sweat from his brow and looking visibly heavy with worry.

“Go, go back, Spock will have mercy. But you must tell the King, or I can't promise the outcome.”

T'pring re-attaches her face cover and gives the golden one rather impressive flirty eyes. “You are one that they will speak of for generations. Kirk. A suitable mate even though you are alien to this world. I bid you farewell.”

Jim blinks, the adrenalin in his system and the thick hot air made him forget completely that for one, he's naked as the day he was born. And two, he's erect and violet in hue, without having even willed himself so.

Before he could say anything, she was gone behind silken curtain as he was left standing there a man in the breeze.

Well.

He shrugs, takes a deep breath of air. Thankful for his quick thinking and sheer dumb luck. Oh, and the bond, the bond some how is alive within him. Glowing like wick in oil, like the sun that spears heavily from the triangular window in the corner.

Sitting back, heavy, on the bed behind him willing the hard-on away. Already way to tired this early in the morning.

After a moments thought, he grabs his jar of ink and is back just in time to catch Sonak driving a robust canon ball.

He'd have to talk to Spock somehow, tonight.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FILLER sorta, I'm gonna time jump a little in the next chapter. Ye be warned.


	13. Meilokulan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Corrosion.

Sybok's camp set up just a few miles north of the kingdom of _Shi'kahr_ , the desert storms roll in about this time. Screeching winds and roaring sands in the mid-day Sun. A few week's had passed since the failed assassination attempt that he was alerted of before his assassin of sorts showed up at his tent. Weary from travel, and trying not to look as such in desperation to appear stable enough for battle.

Of course the high prince knew immediately when she entered, something was truly off. “You know, most traitors, when failing to prove their worth, run and hide in cowardice. I'll admit, I'm impressed.”

She hisses a scoff-like sound, which actually stops Sybok in his daily duties. Writing down what his camp needed and what the should do next in accordance to trade, and the hunt. Although, Spock was definitely one of the better hunters in their ranks.

 

It pains him just to think about it.

“I'm no traitor, and I'm no coward—at least not entirely for a failing.” T'pring took off her mask. “He ripped this off, and even though we have never formally met, the golden-warrior knew it was me. A court member.”

Sybok turns around, a dark look while his gaze zones in on the duchess of sorts. “So, you ran like a bird with its head cut-off at the sight of his knowing demeanor?” Standing up, his mate lays in a cot, tucked into pelts and he keeps a watchful eye for his lovers safety. Moving like a predator to protect their own and be at more of an advantage.

“No.” She says, not angry, but definitely worried, refusing to spare any emotion other than sincere apology.

“The warrior is _T'hai'la_ with your brother Spock, in the seconds that we fought, despite my ambush, he was able to tell your brother who I was. He knows, I didn't even tell him but my non-answer was enough for him to realize-- he told me if I didn't return and never speak to him again, he'd kill me, so here I am on my honor explaining to you what happened...”

“Honor!?” Sybok laughs, “Your lying ass wouldn't know honor if it bit you in the neck... a fool. To have trusted the unwanted bitch of my brothers hand. Do you think I'm a fool?”

T'pring was lying, but for Jim's sake, he spared her life and this was the least she could do. Without backing down, she pulls a knife. In retrospect, bad idea, because Sybok throws his own and the blade skewers her hand in one shiving motion.

She screams out and crumples to the ground, pulling it from her hand and just in time to block another blade attack from the Prince himself. His bond-mate awake, and sitting up in his cot watching the whole thing from a small distance.

Ripping the shawl from her head, Sybok shoves a hand through her up-done hair and pushes her into the ground. Roughly digging his knee into her chest like he would an animal to slaughter.

“You are a fool, and fools who speak ill will never speak again in my presence or anyone else. Give me your tongue, so that I can pin it to my desk and remind all of those who follow me-- what happens to those who lie, and do the opposite of what I instruct.” He pinches her mouth open, she gasps and tries to scramble when Sybok's tent opens and the sounds of wind grow loud for a second until the heavy tent goes shut once more.

 

“Spock?”

 

T'pring turns in shock to see him, and Sybok throws her to the ground, dusting his hands as if he handled trash of some sort.

“Well, my dear brother, what have we here. To who do I owe this random visit?” He acts cheerful and painfully so, its an act. Spock his typical, nearly unemotional self and it's creepy in his older brothers eyes.

“My _T'hai'la_ alerted me to the attempt on his life, the King has confirmed it was this T'pring, but she has been pardoned as her actions were...coerced.” A dark and heavy look at her, then at Sybok.

“Oh brother, and you think it'd be so easy, sending that human out into the wilderness that is ours, and to expect me not to gamble, to play a little? Well, doesn't that seem uncharacteristic?” He says, and his lover laughs, biting their lip to try and silence themselves.

Although, Sybok rather enjoys the sound of it, and the smile on his face only spreads.

“What says you brother, are you going to kill me? Do you think my camp would take to kindly to such a error?”

Spock's fist's clench and then unclench. Something everyone notices, but do not acknowledge.

In a matter of seconds, the younger brother bolts across the room to lunge into an attack, and at that point it is martial arts. Bone breaking, swift, movements of limbs and skill. T'pring scooting back into a corner in the tent, unable to escape with the two before her.

Sybok gains advantage much to her dismay, he laughs and his mate smiles at him before Spock spins away from the two hands choking him, breaking one of his older brothers' wrists with a nasty crack. Using that weak point to bring his brother down, only to test another move he had learned in the deserts of old.

Pinching the muscle between neck and clavicle, Spock telepathically incapacitates him. Knocking his brother clear out, mate of Sybok screaming out in horror. Hoping it was not the end.

“He's not dead, but he will sleep for a while. Come, T'pring.”

While she rather not follow Spock out into the storm of all things, she re-tucks her head into the shawl of sorts. Following him outside.

It's when the prince turns and presses two fingers to her head.

 

_If you ever hurt my family, if you ever attempt your worst towards my clan and home. I will kill you._

 

Simple as that, and then he marches on, a large fur coat with the bulkiest countenance, reminding her of a prideful sehlat. A hood attached so that he could tough the storm, Golden adornments from his skin and a blood red marking down his cheek. A sign of vengeance, and it made her skin prickle and body shudder. She'd never harm another S'chn T'gai for as long as she ever lived and breathed.

 

\- - -

 

Incoherent voices, broken and melted like echos.

Falling from heights never felt before, never ending, organs in his chest.

Zero-Gravity.

Touch to his skin cold like ice, and stars surrounding, but that is all he can see.

Never-ending stars that seem to encompass everything, but yet, it is humanoid touch to his skin that he feels.

 

Feeling.

 

Vibrating.

 

Naked flesh against his own, the feeling of an erection easily gets him riled.

 

_Jim._

 

Two eyes, appear, ethereal, glowing white before him where eyes would be on the body that he feels but cannot see.

 

_Spock..._

 

There is a low moan from the Vulcan, it is the Vulcan who's mouth opens but does not move to the words that he speaks.

_I am yours, forever and always, touching and not, I will meet thee..._

It fades out and Jim wakes, or at least he seems to, in piles of silk on pallet in the middle of the desert. The sun is setting in the distance and the colors in the sky are near impossible. Like cotton candy and sorbet, the first things that come to mind, but, less blue.

But the sky, it fast-forwards while he is the lone common denominator. And in the distance Spock walks to him, slowly but with purpose, coated in Vulcan gold that reflects the light. From sunrise to day to sunset and night time, Spock reaches the pallet of purple silk and leans in to touch his face.

 

_I will meet thee, at the appointed place._

 

Their lips touch and it feels like the first time, Jim's golden tan body shuddering beneath Spock who slowly splits the dry lips of human variety with his tongue.

 

Jim closes his eyes, and gives into the sensation.

 

_Spock..._

 

_Jim._

 

_T'hai'la._

 

Their erections align with ease in their position, Spock's head falls forward in a hissing moan. So inhuman, so incredible.

Eye's opening once more to white orbs that glow like stars Raven black hair that blocks all other line of sight and Jim is overtaken.

Waking with a jolt, belly first in his sleeping bag, scrambling for purchase and breathing as if coming up from the seas of _Thanar._

 

“My god!” Jim exclaims, startling his dear son from his deep slumber.

 

“Father? Are you alright?”

The human can't believe that he just had such a dream, it had been six months since he last talked with Spock. And it was hardly pleasant. A lot of arguing and pleading, begging on Jim's part to spare the woman T'pring if only to stay true to his promise, to his own good word.

Sonak rubs his eyes, and Jim lifts a hand to steady him. “It's...” Shaking his head. “It's quite alright, just a dream. I don't, I don't know what it's about...”

“It's alright, sometimes, it's good to have our own thoughts. Dreams for ourselves... was it, scary?”

Jim shakes his head. “Sort of, I can't, quite explain...” Flushing red in the early dawn.

“Well, you should always try to cast out your fears, there can't be any room to grow or learn if we don't cast out our fears.” Sonak says so eloquently, Jim stares in awe at his son.

“I suppose your right...”

Sonak nods, and looks around. “Should we head out early, or do you want more rest?”

“I don't think an extra hour will do me much justice at this point, lets go ahead and get going.” Slow to move however, rubbing his face as such a jarring dream would exhaust anyone. His son offers him some dried jerky, and a hand out of bed.

Jim's hair at this point grew so long, that he kept it in a short ponytail, hair combed back completely and face clean shaven. He made sure of it, and it was better than hacking off his hair and having some weird bob all the time.

Sonak, kept his clean cut and super short because Jim could cut it for him. Bangs straight across as he preferred, or it seemed, most Vulcan's did

With a full day ahead, Jim realize as he finalizes the last of the lines on his map, that, for all intents and purposes, the map, is finished.

It wasn't a huge moment at first. Sonak took his time to study each corner of his map, doodle something in his own make-shift sketch pad of sorts and looked it over incessantly. Murmuring in a weird dialect of Vulcan that Jim only barely knew.

“This is it.” Says his son with wide eyes, the first person to say it out loud. That his goal had been accomplished, everything was well. They could go home now, could attempt at a new life, create something, anything but wander this desert aimlessly.

And after 602 days, a little over two human years, a little over two Vulcan ones. They've finished the task, and Jim, Jim couldn't be happier. So they pack up their things, Jim carefully rolls his map up to tuck away in its satchel.

Ipa takes off with them on her back, rolling along into the desert and headed north to Shi'kahr.

“Do you think you will be married just as soon as you come back?” Says his son, Jim sighs at the thought. Face light and happy with the sheer thought of it.

“Hmm, I don't know... I kind would like to get to know Spock a little better before tying my life to him for the rest of my short human life.”

“Short human life?” His son turns around, “What do you mean?”

“Well.” Jim tries to look more sheepish than sad. “Son, I'm 37 years old... men in my world don't live past about uh-- 115. I'm not like you crazy Vulcan's...” He sighs, wrapping his arms around his now scared looking son.

“You're... going to die in less than 80 years?” Like that was a big deal. “Probably earlier, seeing my career choices... human skin doesn't do well in this heat, I could very well develop skin cancer...”

“No.” Says the boy, who crosses his arms, rather belligerent.

“What?”

“You can't die.”

“Sonak--”

“You heard me, I'll do anything, we'll get you better clothes. Anything. If I at least get you till you are 116. I will not be so upset.”

Jim's surprised, but even more so at the distraught look on his sons face, which cancels out any of the humor he felt. “How old are you, Sonak?”

“I don't know-- when we; when we started this journey I was pretty sure that I was 8-- so closer to 10 I think...” Blinking up, “I have 240 if not more years to live...” Frowning. “I'm-- I'm scared father.”

Jim frowns, kissing the top of his head.

“Spock will not let you live alone.” He promises.

“I will always be with you, in spirit... _Katra_.”

Sonak hides his face in Jim's chest, and the golden warrior sighs, the poor boy. Just got a father, only to believe he will be ripped away.

“I love you, son, don't you forget that... but don't mourn me yet. I'm alive, I'm right here, are you going to waste my 79 last years son something such as mourning what is not yet lost?” Sonak shakes his head into Jim's chest, then pries away for Jim to smile and look him in the eyes.

“You know, a great man told me once, that you should always try to cast out your fears, there can't be any room to grow or learn if we don't cast out our fears.”

Sonak smiles, wide, happy, shy for various reasons.

“I love you, father. Please never forget me.”

“I'd rather die...” Jim jokes, chuckling at the way his son rolls his eyes and grabs the reigns. Asking for Ipa to go faster.

With fast travels, they'd arrive at _Shi'khar_ in a week, maybe a little more.

They rest, Sonak sings at night, Jim tells Spock that he will be home soon. All is well with the world, when upon their 608th day of traveling, they get to canyons that were familiar as ever. Full of _le'matya_ and dangerous. Quietly they aim to get through the dusty valley. Looking for higher ground and a way through that spoke less danger than they wanted.

It seemed to go so smoothly for the first hour, but then it seeps in that they are being watched and not by your typical predator.

It is then, when the ambush occurs.

With wild screaming, they're surrounded by many. Too many. And Jim has his weapon out, sure, but 27 warriors fully armed and painted for war surround them in an angry circle. Just as there was peace, there is now chaos, and Jim, Jim lowers his weapon at the sight of a very angry Sybok and his own mate. Now upon their own, new, sehlats.

“Such fools, and you thought we'd let you just come back, thought it'd be so easy.” S'var hisses, Sonak sits up. “Cowards! You come with a clan to fight one and a child. You're bones will rot in pits of serpents!” His brave son hisses, but Jim lifts a hand.

“We don't want any violence, Sybok. There are no enemies here, but family. Would you really harm your brother's _T'hai'la_? His child?”

Jim feels like he knows the answer, but a clear cut answer is what he wants.

Sybok laughs, he laughs so hard he can barely breath. “Oh please alien, you make me laugh...” Before Jim can even say anything else, the Vulcan prince brings down his blade.

 

“Kill him.”

 

It happens like a nightmare.

A gust of wind and men charge forward.

“Take the boy!” Says Sybok. “He'll pay in chains.”

Jim screams out to protect the child, “No! Don't! Let him go! You can take me, but please, let him go!”

They take him, screaming and kicking before knocking Sonak out with the heavy end of a _lirpa_ , blood green and violent slipping down his skull.

His father struggles, “No! No! Please let him go!” And that's when Jim starts taking them down, one by one with a single dagger. A neck, one in the side, fierce, angry and unpredictable.

And yet, as he kills one, another stabs him.

A gash in his forehead, a cut to his knee, his Achilles tendon, bicep, shoulder. Hacking away at him, as he takes down 7 warriors and wounds another 6.

But alas, not much can help a single warrior in this battle, one against 27. All much stronger, healthier, battle ready.

When a spear sheaths through his chest, and another until he's skewered on both ends in the shape of an X. He can hear Sonak's screams, cries.

There are tears in the humans eyes as they pull their blades from him.

 

But no.

 

No...

 

This cannot be.

 

“Sonak...” He speaks to the wind as he feels the clothing removed from his body.

“Burn everything, but leave him there to die.”

Everything, they take his clothes and his food. Everything he took as souvenir, and then the map.

The very map he has slaved over for years, is settled into a nasty flame beside him.

The only thing he can think of is the sky above him, white glistening eyes in his dreams. That is this the end? This is how it ends?

 

And then...

 

_Spock._

 

Silence, as his sight fades to black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm soooooooorry, omg I'm such an asshole... don't worry this story will have a good ending, I promise.


	14. T'hai'la

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jim passes out a lot.

A flurry of colors that ripple between warm hues and pitch black is all that Jim can make certain of. Opening his eyes and closing, opening again and hearing muffled words. Anger in the distance. Like something ringing in his head while his eyes try to make sense of it all.

Drowsy, oh-so tired and weak. Jim can barely move his hands, his fingers, let alone his limbs. So he waits for his eyes to work.

“This is precisely why I can hardly stand being around you any more, Sarek.” Says a feminine voice from afar. Not terribly far, Jim deciphers. But far enough that it would seem more appropriate or private in comparison to where Jim lay.

“You can't possibly see past the traditions and evils of your people. Do you truly within your heart believe that this is right? That the course of action will bring peace and make people happy?” Angry, strong.

What a woman, Jim thinks with a smile and wincing as he realizes that there are cuts along his finger tips and over his chest that sting more than anything.

A large dull ache in his torso.

He's kind of out of it, feels as if his head is spinning.

How did he get here again?

_Sonak!_

He bolts upright out of the dead prone position and immediately regrets it, as the odd dismantling feeling of wooziness and nausea rip through him like never before. A groan at the feeling in his chest, sore and sick.

Jim feels at the source of his pain, the wound hasn't re-opened and how they managed to patch him up after something like that is a miracle in itself.

The arguing he heard before, is now a distant thought as he ponders over what happened. Has no idea how long he was asleep or where his son is.

_Spock, Spock where are you? Where is Sonak?_

Trying in vain to contact the prince, get him to see reason, to answer him.

A feminine, strong, voice, breaks him out of his pain-stricken reverie.

“I'm a learned individual, warrior.” She says as if reading his thoughts, but certainly Amanda couldn't right?

“I know about Human anatomy. Between this and the use of Vulcan medicine, I was able to heal what was damaged. You have Spock and I'pa to thank for it too, your Sehlat ran for his help and caught you in time...”

“How?” Jim still finds this impossible.

“You were closer to Shi'kahr than you think, my dear...” A deep sigh, yet Jim's not so concerned about this. Shaking his head. “Where is he? Where is Sonak?”

Amanda can barely contain her worry, pursing her lips as if stewing on the thoughts herself, not quite pleased with all that's occurred either.

“Spock sent I'pa running back here with you strapped to him... he's gone after the one who had harmed you.” Gaze hardening, both of them share a knowing look.

“By himself?” Jim gapes a little, jaw gone a bit slack as he rubs at his chin; his whole torso wrapped up in bandages.

“I sent a few of his most trusted after him, but I doubt they will find his whereabouts...” Again, that same discontent with the situation is not even remotely masked. She closes her eyes,

“Everything you had was found burnt at the site of your attack...”

“T'manda...”

“Spock said he looked, but he must not have searched for long. Going to your son of course I--”

“Lady T'manda, I don't _care_ about that silly map, if anything I'm worried about my _son_ , and your son too.” He says in a loud voice, more commanding then he intended for this situation. He groans and holds his chin again, “I'm... sorry.” He murmurs.

Looking up to her once more, “I'm sorry, it's just... I can't sit around here and waste time while they are both out there in danger--”

“Jim, you can't just leave like this... you haven't fully healed and you're wounds could re-open.” And sure the medicine and handiwork did a damn good job. He's still in no shape to be getting up at all let alone...

He gets up anyway.

“Jim... please. Be reasonable, you can't possibly fend through this, let alone find Spock...” T'manda goes to him, pressing two slender, yet strong hands against Jim's wounds with a desperate tone that he totally catches onto.

Grasping her hands, “You've been a great help, T'manda.” Looking at her fierce in the eyes and determined as ever. “But as sure as anything, as sure as I've ever been about anything in the world, this universe even... I know I'll find him.”

She looks confused, “Spock has never even shown you the scarcest bit of emotion, he hardly shows it for me. Not even as his father would... how do you feel so deeply for a man who is not related to you by blood?”

“He's my _T'hai'la_.”

Simple as that, right as rain.

As if nothing else could explain better, but apparently so. Amanda seems to relax, gently pull her hands away and worries at the hem of her scarf a little.

“So it is true...”

Originally the queen thought that it was something made up to spare Jim's life, but she's been wrong all this time. And while the man is severely injured, something deep inside has her believing Jim could help.

He's already slipping his sandals on, with mild difficulty, and this alone, watching him wince while lacing them has her aching. This isn't good, isn't right, her human sensibilities made it even more difficult to watch the man proceed.

When they walk out the door, Sarek stood there as if he understood what was unraveling before him. Looking at Jim with steely thoughtful eyes, quiet and inquisitive.

The color, is reminiscent of Spock's, sure, but the shape, their soft and demure quality comes directly from the woman behind him. Jim locks his gaze once with Sarek, and nods gently. “I'm going after him, and no one will get in my way.”

Sarek grins, a crooked little thing.

Now that, that is reminiscent of Spock, in a nutshell.

Jim's heading to the stables, I'pa is there, minding his own, eating fresh _Plo-meek_ and snuffing around in a bucket of water.

Weapon strapped to his back, _ahn-woon_ at his waist, a dagger, water, a proper cloak for cover from the sun.

He quickly heads west, which is were Spock was seen headed. Towards Sybok's tribe of hunters, and supposedly, Spock's direction.

Only confirmed when Jim closes his eyes and concentrates on the bond. Oh the connection, that soothing warmth in the pit of his stomach. In his mind, the link sat there heated and tingling like the gentle caress of nails on wrist.

Sweet heavens, Jim couldn't describe it and not nearly as deeply as it felt beneath the layers of skin. Half of his essence, rested somewhere else and he never chose this, it wasn't a fact of decision and thought.

Spock lit him from the inside like independence day, like world unification day.

Ethereal, Eviscerating everything he once thought was himself.

Time lost all meaning, all relevance when he chose to follow the bond. Body and natural need has sent him on this path to find Spock.

When he wakes, still sore, in fact, worse off after the expedient measures I'pa took to get this far, this fast; he can hear the voice, the warmth inside begin to grow.

Feel anger, spreading into his body like a fever, deadly and disenchanting.

Spock sat upon _I'chaya_ , arguing with Sybok, seemingly not having noticed Jim. No one really would unless there were lookouts and since the young prince caught his older brother off-guard that wasn't an issue.

However there is still the bond that flows smoothly; so Spock knows.

 

_What are you doing here?_

 

Woah, without any concentration, any assistance through a meld and Jim can hear him clear as day in his head. It must be, without any doubt, the close proximity.

 

_Where is Sonak?_

Feeling an emotion kin to annoyance, Jim bristles.

 

_He's with them, I'm currently trying to retrieve him. You are unwell, you should not be here._

 

Jim's behind a boulder or two, sure he could hear them argue, but had no idea what they were facing.

 

_How many of them are there?_

 

He asks, urgently, but Spock doesn't answer right away as the man is currently arguing.

“You seem distracted, Brother, what has you gazing so distantly at such a time as war?”

“I don't want war, Sybok. Only what is mine, rightfully.”

 

“I rightfully, took him. There is nothing here but an end for you... surely this brat isn't worth your time?” Spock is surrounded.

 

_Sixteen of them, but more are most certainly on the way._

 

Jim hisses in frustration and guides I'pa out into the open with his thighs.

 

_I'm coming out._

 

_Jim, no..._

 

_Telling me no?_ -laughter through the bond- _That_ _'_ _s interesting._

 

Spock cocks his head, and Jim strolls on in slowly, as to not cause some sort of slaughter.

Sybok catches hazel eyes last, immediately laughing at the sight.

“Oh! I see what's disturbing you so, brother... your wounded alien whore...” Slapping his chest as a sign of humor. “That's funny, hilarious even... well carry on Spock, tell us, why you care?”

Spock opens his mouth, and then closes it, at a loss for words until.

“Honestly, I don't care if he cares.”

Jim answers, angrily, not even remotely trying to spread his typical dry humor. No, not at all.

Everyone turns their sight at him, as Sybok scowls.

“I challenge you...”

Spock turns his head, openly shocked at his mate.

“We, Challenge you. _T'hai'la Toria'tal!”_

Quickly turning towards Sybok, with open challenge on his face, brows pursed with defiance which quickly wipes the smile right off of the taller, older, brothers visage.

“Oh?”

Jim shrugs. “No rides... just four, an even fight. No use for bloodshed.”

Sybok growls, “Please, what bloodshed? Two of you and so many of us?”

“T'hai'la, not just hunters and tribesmen. And warriors by every right, we'd at least take half of you with us in our death.”

Silence rolls over at that, because Jim has a point that even Spock couldn't deny with some calculation. It's a sound justification.

A sneer, a snorting huff, and Sybok swings off of his mount.

“Half my heart.” He calls, just a low murmur and S'var peers up from the end of the line. Dark as scorched and ebony bark, eyes deep like coal. A beautiful, lithe, warrior. Just a little shorter than Jim and a little skinnier than Spock, but the body like the nimblest of warriors.

Spock knew immediately, that he would have to try and face S'var, Jim would be far too slow for a one on one with him. Or, at least that is what he figures. But Jim hauls up off of I'pa right after Spock. A half circle of men, and woman form to watch.

Not too close, no one wants to lose a limb of course.

When someone rattles a pot full of roots, and then a loud sound in Vulcan that sounded like 'start' echoes, and so Jim takes that as initiation.

Unsurprisingly, in this vast supply of frothy looking sand, Jim can spot his son, tied to a long rope and that rope tied to a Sehlat with supplies on its back. Sonak is passed out and face bloodied.

An anger unlike any grows within him now, as S'var charges him first which pretty much sends him sprawling back and attempting to roll around inelegantly in the sand and away from each dagger blow that is jabbed like scorpion sting.

Barely missing, sliding through the side of his cheek causing scarlet ooze to drip from his face. This, has a startling effect.

Alien anatomy before the young attackers very eyes, Jim kicks up with both feet and sends S'var flying back. Light, for a Vulcan, and so he thanks his stars while skidding through the amber sand to find his footing.

Catching glimpse, of Spock and Sybok, lirpa's crossed as they battle for strength. Surely the older brother is stronger, but Jim's attention is taken away before he could ever see Spock smiling wildly at the taller Vulcan.

Charging off of a shoving motion with his lirpa, ducking low and using his long legs to trip up his brother to send him off-balance and back wards. Taking a swipe with the sharp curved end of his weapon, and in turn, slicing a deep horizontal cut in both of Sybok's forearms with an elegance profound.

Jim, is thankful for this. Because maybe its out of confidence, maybe stupidity, but the groaning sound Sybok made shocks S'var out of their own parry. (Which is more Jim dodging for his life than anything to be honest...)

Jim knocks the smaller man in the head with the blunt end of his lirpa, sending him back into a depression of sand. And without Sybok even realizing it, Jim's flanking him.

A small dagger not in Syboks heart, but really damn close.

Sybok lets out a wailing scream, momentarily unfocused, pulling at the blade at his side and tossing the knife covered in emerald blood onto the ground with a whimper.

“Jim!” Spock calls, Jim slips to the ground and Spock takes the brunt of an epic blow that S'var had managed to round up with the lirpa that almost looks too heavy for those skinny limbs.

Again, but with a lot more force, Spock knocks the other Vulcan in the head with the blunt end, and this time it sends him down and out for good. Just in time For Spock to turn around and watch Jim, who is running away from Sybok to catch a better angle. And yet he is no match this wounded, turning, being quickly shoved into the ground, and stabbed right down the middle and into the sand so that this long dagger sticks all the way through.

Spock growls. Or at least Jim thinks Spock growled, it sounded like nothing he's ever heard before. So when he turns to face the noise, all he see's next is a body.

Sybok, with a horrified look on his face, a hand around his neck until his body lay slack.

Spock--- what did he? What? What happened?

 

_Jim, no! Jim stay with me... T'hai'la I'm going to get us out of here._

 

Jim can see Spock still, so he smiles. Looks up at the taller man, blinks away the fogginess until all there is, is darkness, yet again.

 

\- - -

 

The sound of laughter, the feel of soothing cool waters on his lips.

He wakes with a start, eyes wide as he realizes he's floating in a clear, cold, pool of water and being washed by two rather hesitant servants.

On the other side of the pool is Spock, wringing out a cloth that is soaked in blood.

Jim's blood.

“Spock?”

Spock doesn't speak, only looks at him as if he has no idea what to say, or do to him.

“Where is Sonak?”

Answered a second later, when after a pitter patter of feet on marble, the child does a canon ball right into the water off of the side of the pool. Quickly, clumsily, treading through to reach Jim, who was being washed, but the servants stand to the side as he floats in some kind of device full of air. Wooden and made, well, just for this he supposed.

“What-- what happened...”

“Spock-- _Sa'mekh_ \-- he won! He saved us... I don't know _how_ but he did!” Excited, flailing around and that alone made Jim kind of nauseous. “Ah--” He crumples forward, but Spock strides over just in time to catch him.

“Jim... it would be wise to stay still and let the healers sooth your wounds...” An arm around his waist, Jim lets himself rest there. The water carry him a little, Chocolate gaze on his own.

“Yeah? I suppose that'd be wise...”

“This is not a joke, you are allowed one night in the palace and you will rest as much as possible while in my presence.”

“I'll try not to waste your time.” Jim answers back, a soft sort of smile. “Spock.”

Spock looks confused, “Yes?”

“You're still holding me, and these healers probably need to do there thing.”

Quickly the Vulcan lets go, and the two doctors of sorts get right back to applying the medicines over Jim's stitched up torso. He looks like an old vintage game of operation right about now, and it does feel better, physically, to be under the studious hands of the healers.

But as Spock watches him with those deep eyes, Jim feels that he rather be with his _T'hai'la_ instead, passing out, again, at the sight of Spock's back turned to him and ascending out of the water via stairs.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> >w> Yaaas this chapter is finished at last! I'm thinking about 6 more chapters. I have this all plotted out, which is really rare for me. I had a beginning and an end to this bugger and wow, now I have all the parts in the middle and I'm actually really satisfied with it. So, I hope this is enough to keep you all happy! (It seems to be doing the trick...) 
> 
> At any rate, Read and review please. Your comments are what keep me thriving and going. Thank you to all my readers! And also know, that today, (8/24/15) is my 3 year marriage anniversary to Terry who is my muse, my helper, and I can read this shit outloud to his polysexual ass and he'll totally enjoy it so I gotta hand it to him...TTYL LLAP


	15. Ko'mekh

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yo mama.

_In an amorphous room high up and distant from the world below, a younger Amanda, T'manda, who is still getting used to this world, uncertain if she will ever belong here, settles a young and very sleepy looking Spock on a large fluffy sandy-brown pelt._

 

_Traditional it is for Vulcan's in this time, to keep the pelts of their fallen sehlat, especially ones who did well in battle._

 

_This one was Sarek's most prized pelt, and he had placed it on this floor the day their son was born._

 

_This very son who sleeps a tad restlessly, only 5 years old and the smartest she had ever seen in this age. So bright and different, a type of eloquence she never expected, hell, not even in a human child._

 

_Instead of wanting to play with his fathers knife, or going on hunts, Spock rather pad around the library and stick his nose in any scroll or tapestry he may find. Rummage through a chest of old kitchen utensils and test each object out for sound, taste, texture. Curiosity, bold and new in this one._

 

“ _Ko'mehk...” Vulcan children speak more soundly at a younger age, in fact, they seem to grow twice as fast, and it breaks her heart and warms it all the same._

 

“ _Well hello Spock, good morning.” She grins brightly, unfastening a cloth from her sash and revealing soft unleavened bread of sorts, grainy, and is baked in long triangular strips._

 

“ _I brought you this and some legumes, if you are hungry.” Knowing very well that the boy is not interested in eating meat products of any variety. Such a strange one of his kind, a miracle in her eyes. This whole life, a second life, is a miracle._

 

_During the wars of her planet, her kind were scorned and hunted. Earth wasn't such a good place._

 

_Sometimes, she doubts the sanctity of this planet too, why a planet like this? Why so barren? Why hot and deadly?_

 

“ _No mother, I am alright right now...” Looking around with big wide bright eyes, reminiscent of her Mothers. So beautiful, sweet, inquisitive. “Well, this, is the room in which you were born.” Stating proudly, and yet a simple smile for her child._

 

“ _I wasn't born in the castle?” He ponders curiously, sitting upright yet still well embedded within the confines of wool-like blanket and furry pelt._

 

_Shaking her head in the negative, Amanda continues, and tells the boy of her planet. That she isn't from here, and that there are actual reasons why he is how he is, different, but no lesser. A prince, to be loved, and cared for all his days._

 

“ _But you see, my blood-- it is not like yours. It's red, if the nurse maids had saw, it no doubt would have spread throughout the kingdom. Great lengths have gone in to keeping my identity hidden.”_

 

“ _Is my blood red?” Eyes wide, he remembers Sybok coming back from the hunt and having a brownish yellow bruise over his eye and a slice down his arm in deep tourmaline._

 

“ _No, which is all the better. Something I am grateful for, your biology will help you survive this planet better than I could ever hope to.”_

 

“ _Why are we here?” Understandably confused. “If it is safe than--”_

 

“ _Of course it is safe, no my child, I love this room, it is high in the sky, cooler than on the surface of Vulcan and so it is more like the climate of my planet, or at least, a warmer more arid part of my planet but nonetheless in sweltering heat I prefer to come here... so I decided to share this place with you.”_

 

_She smiles, touching his cheek. “On earth, I was a teacher, a scientist, and so here I began my own pile of-- well, science.”_

 

_He finally steadies his gaze to take in the room, one large window well disguised with rock-side cliff and yet letting in a gracious amount of gently peeking sunlight. Morning on Vulcan, in soft pinkish reds and golden vermillion._

 

_Little holes, cracked and ragged sit sporadically within the amorphous walls of rock and flecked with gold. Letting in slits of lighting without introducing its heat into the construct. A beautiful way to architect a room for a sensitive human and her newborn child._

 

_There is a bed of pelts and down pillows, a fire pit created to be discreet. Lirpa's by the door, a door of metal shut and locked. A small shelf with a handful of Terran books, and little trinkets doodads. Bits and pieces of earthen technology._

 

“ _What is this mother?”_

 

“ _It's a radio, and this, is a telescope... tonight, I will tell you of the world beyond ours. Beyond the stars, and where part of your heritage lies...”_

 

 

Jim awakens in a large and splendid bed, cushions, pillows, pelts and a cotton type fabric, similar to the Egyptian variety. Swathed and wrapped in gauze and medicines, feeling stiff and feverish. Tired and sun sick. Throat on fire, lips dry, body exhausted so fiercely, Jim cannot rise.

He focuses on the ceiling, also covered in fabric, deep reds and luxurious hues. How... Spock; The golden warrior thinks to himself as he ponders his predicament. He knows their battle is won, and all of them live despite the situation they were granted.

“You are awake.” A statement, not a question, as Spock rises in a way that would seem effortless. He was sprawled beside Jim as he slept. Sonak is laying horizontally at their feet, arms wrapped around a fluffy looking pillow.

“Yeah, at least I think so, if I'm not dead that is...” Looking over at the Vulcan with tired sunken lidded eyes that look as exhausted as he feels, he's sure.

“Not dead, but you did almost perish. Sybok and his mate were fierce adversaries.”

A slow, single, nod from the wounded human. “I wasn't afraid.”

“I know.”

 

_The bond?_

 

Jim asks through their link, easily startling his bonded, satisfaction spreading through him to see Spock flinch in surprise.

“Yes-- the bond.” A little self conscious about this, uncertain how to carry on with this subject.

“About that...” Good a time as any, he thinks, eyes glancing around the room but trying his hardest not to move his head. It hurts, everything positively aches so badly he can barely stand it. All the man wants to do is sleep for a week.

But before he can continue with this conversation, Sarek comes bursting into the room like a bat out of hell. Looking almost-angry in his disposition.

“Spock, you must take Jim out of _Shi'kahr_ at once!”

Quick to react, the young Vulcan slides to his feet, eyes glimmering, seething with disdain. “Why? Do you not accept my T'hai'la, father?”

“Don't be so dramatic, Spock, you know very well that this bonded of yours did not bring the map. Word has spread that we have housed him, a criminal, who has t brought justice to his name. I believe your mate committed no crime, I believe your mate is facing serious unjust. But in the eyes of the people, there is nothing else but malice.”

“They base their discontent so heavily on a single man.”

“An alien...”

“My mother is an alien.” Spock deadpans.

“Yes and you would do well to remember how much secrecy it is shrouded in. No one knows, no one ever knew but Sybok and you, my son. Spies were vanquished, tolls were taken. No one speaks of her and that is how I will keep it-- no, this man came from the sky and I have no way to sooth the anger of our people if he stays for much longer.”

Sarek is right, Jim isn't safe here and he'd be wise to help the human escape.

“We will go to the cliff tower, I will nurse him to health with a doctor if you so grant me one. I would like rations and a guard.”

Only met with curious gaze, “Of-- of course, Spock, whatever it is you need. I understand the necessity of tending and caring for ones injured mate; but, you must do so quickly, there is no time to waste.”

Jim's been letting Spock take the head front on this, way too weak to handle much of anything else. It's not that Jim has given up, far from it. But when stabbed lethally three times in dangerous situations. The human body can only take so much abuse.

Sonak starts to rouse from his slumber, sitting up to rub at little eyes. “Sa'mekh?”

“Yes?” Both Spock and Jim answer at the same time, which is cause and effect. The two men look at each other with curious glances.

Blinking, Sonak smile a little cheekily, then cools it into a face of curiosity.

“What is going on? Is everything okay?”

A gentle sigh that hitches in Jim's chest, he holds his hand to his girth and gasps a little in pain. Which causes Spock to flinch and Sonak to jump forward and crawl closer.

“We must leave.” Spock answers to that, Sarek who had been watching with intrigue all this time nods gracefully. “Indeed, I'll have your sehlats prepared and a proper strap for Jim put in place. A guard with rations will accompany you. Good luck, my son.”

Sarek salutes Spock, fingers spread, just how Jim'd seen it before.

Weird, like, a secret hand gesture of some sort.

Right after the king leaves, Spock starts getting Jim prepared. Covering him in warm clothing for the night's journey. Hydrating him and giving water to Sonak so that he could help Jim drink as they go. The boy wasn't exactly injured, nose and eye socket bruised up. But Sybok planned on selling him into slavery. Again. So, he didn't want something of fiscal value being injured beyond resell point.

As sick as that may be, it is the reason that the boy is well and isn't dead.

In his incessant desire to get the highest amount of revenge possible, his foolish ways killed him and forever Jim will remember the look on his face when Spock did—whatever the hell it is he did, when he defeated him. When he turned his head to watch an evil man die.

There was no happiness, no joy, only relief that perhaps his family could go in peace.

As they trek through the desert and towards the east, Spock leads their caravan with a sort of alertness that Jim had never seen. Any little sound, made the prince turn his head even if it was just a little bit. Then again, Jim was rather sick and worn at the moment, so maybe he's imagining this and just concussed.

He vomits twice on the way there, the sun slowly starts to peek up from ragged canyons. Like the teeth of a le'matya and appearing twice as dangerous. And yet so beautiful, blood scarlet and rusty golds, Jim can hardly close his eyes in the face of such a valley

“Where---are we headed?”

“Somewhere safe.”

Is the only answer he gets, so holding in the desire to sigh, Jim rubs at his eyes and lets Sonak guide his sehlat while he rests on the back of I'pa.

“You are annoyed.” Spock intones.

“Yeah, well, it'd help if you talked a bit more. Attached to your head and I still can't seem to understand you.” Voice tired, slurring a bit.

“Perhaps it is the situation that currently is dire. You are in bad health. I wish to get you to safety before the Le'matya lure at the smell of your blood.”

Sonak flinches, “He has a point.”

“Oh so now you're siding with him. Good to know.” Half joking.

“His intentions are... prudent.” Carefully choosing his words.

Jim gives a huff of laughter, then groans in pain.

Spock is smiling a little, not at Jim's misfortune. But the fact that Sonak agreed, wise child, he's always been a bit... fond. If you could use that.

Soon they get to a giant flat looking wall.

“Well?” Sonak says, confused at the way they stopped in front of a huge wall that spanned hundreds of feet in the air. Seemingly completely vertical. Less of a mountain, more of a cliff-side.

“This is it.”

“What?”

Jim had awoken from a light nap, licking dried lips and trying to peer up, only to be blinded by sunlight.

“Ah--” He hisses. “That wasn't a good idea...”

The two Vulcan's only appear perplexed, that weird eyebrow thing, both of them are doing it.

“Don't you two-- do that?”

“Do what?” They both say at similar intervals.

“Uh—Never mind.” He murmurs.

“What is this place.” Spock steps closer, and closer and seems to walk through a wall. But no, its an illusion with a short window of entry.

Well, okay. From any distance that isn't remarkably close, you'd never see it, but there's a triangular passageway that blends in from most any angle. Only someone learned or lucky would see this irregularity.

Sonak follows behind Spock rather ambitiously, Jim wincing at the quicker pace they create.

The guard dismounts in the alcove before a long spiral of stairs.

“Prince Spock, I'll await here.”

All he receives is a nod, and then three Sehlat's.

“How the hell am I--”

Spock, lifts Jim into his arms bridal style, effortlessly.

“Come, we must get you some place to rest. Sonak, bring water and the medicine.”

“Yes Sa'mehk...” Doing as he asked and quickly following them up the long path of stairs.

Jim, is stunned silent. Not exactly happy with the turn of events. He can walk by his damn self thank you very much. ( No he can't...) But still, it would have been nice if Spock asked, or, or something (not a chance in hell.)

“Very convenient that my only way up is in your arms, wouldn't you agree?”

Sonak makes a face of disgust, but neither of the adults notice.

“It is the only way to safely get you to the tower.”

“Tower? Oh? So are you gonna lock me away in a tower-- when did my life become a book of fairy tales.”

Spock looks confused for a moment. “Your life is no fairy tale. Different, certainly; but fairy tales are an illogical Terran concept.”

“Wait, you know what those are? I mean, the actual term ' _fairy tale_ '...”

“My mother is human, and here is were she would show me the only pieces of her home that she had left. A book of ' _Grimms Fairy Tales_ ' were among these things.

“Here?” This dark hallway of never ending stairs? He can barely see!

 

_Soon, T'hai'la, you will see._

 

Through the bond with the art of calm, something warm and affectionate Jim was shocked to the core at receiving.

It seemed like forever, when in reality it was only 20 or so minutes. A cool gentle breeze and a light whistling sound.

An amorphous room with little crevice windows and bits of light.

It's a delightful surprise.

“Well, if this is your way of wooing me Spock. I must say, I'm impressed.”

“There was no intentions in this manner I--”

“Spock, it was a joke. Thank you, for-- for taking us somewhere safe.” Jim settles into the bed that his bondmate puts him in. “It's a very nice temperature here-- how I mean, my guess is the elevation but--”

“Correct, the altitude makes the air slightly sparse but it is not unlivable. I estimate 10 degree's cooler than on the surface.”

Sonak, peers out of the large window and gasps a little thing. “We're really high up. I've never been this high up in my whole life.” Eye's like saucers for a moment, until the see's the telescope and that makes him even more excitable.

Jim was even captivated, by the room itself, once he got his bearings.

“That's--”

“That is a book shelf, a radio, a telescope, a human styled, solar-powered data pad.”

“Solar powered on a dilithium outlet... how did you--”

“This is all my mothers, things that she had managed to bring with her.”

Arranging himself better on the low setting bed, he can barely take his tired eyes off of the Vulcan before him.

Blinking a few times nice and slow until he falls asleep, too wounded and weary to speak. Like a switch, exhaustion takes him.

Spock sits at an octagon shaped table that is also low seated with cushions underneath. Within a container is parchment and ink.

Sonak, presses his fingers against books placed on the make-shift shelves in the wall.

“This is amazing, and I'm grateful Sa'mehk, truly, but how are we going to...”

Spock doesn't say anything, only lets the boy ponder and then sit across from him at the table, and unravel a cloth with dried fruit, similar to dates but a brightly colored purple.

“How are we going to get Jim into Shi'kahr? We cannot stay here forever, and we don't have the map.” Eyes almost shining with the hopelessness of the situation.

“When Jim is better, he and I will discuss this. But you do not need to fret, health first, and then we will worry about the status he has.”

Sonak looks a bit disbelieving, but resigns himself with a gentle nod.

“If you say so.”

Spock however has taken to looking at Jim with this look that Sonak can't quite place in his head, something he's not attuned to. So, he goes back to fumbling with books, there are a few more on the floor besides the table. But when he looks up seemingly a good breadth of time later, Spock is still staring.

“You should go to him.”

Spock, shaken out of his reverie, looks at Sonak as if he grew a second head.

“Hold him, or something. The whole time out here, out in our travels, he'd speak your name in his sleep and pretty much talked about you nonstop. I'm pretty sure you'd be welcome.”

Disbelief now on Spock's face, and then such a similar look of resignation.

He stands up, unclasps his cloak.

Wearing a skirt that flows in the back and slits at the sides, and not nearly as much golden jewlery as usual. Spock slides into the bed gracefully besides Jim, all angular boxed muscle except for the curve of his back. Before, Spock noticed the man had more of a stomach. But now he is thin and gaunt in a way that tugs at his _katra_. Jim is hungry, tired, injured, and still...

the most beautiful thing he has ever seen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SURPRISE! I was inspired, went ahead and made the next chappie! Stay tuned lovelies!!


	16. Esta

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All men are pigs.

“The needs of the many?” Sonak says, just as Spock's eyes open into sporadic dawn light.

“Yes, Sonak, the needs of the many... outweigh the needs of the few... or the one.” Jim explains, a sigh, a groan as he winces from his make-shift seat on the bed.

It had been three days since their arrival and Jim was healing ever so slowly. After many months of abuse no human body should take, it was a recovery that Spock was sure would take quite some time. Not that he was protesting, in fact, he had to make sure that the man did not over exert himself.

That in itself, was exhausting.

“I don't... understand...” A confused, but intrigued little voice.

“One persons life should not outweigh the needs of the many. Ever. A moral imperative is that the many are taken care of, we all live together on this planet. The thoughts, needs, will, of the many are more crucial than that of the few.” Jim explains.

“But what of earning? What of someone who deserves a greater post for his title, a better sehlat, a better weapon?”

“Why must we have weapons in the first place?” Jim asks, and his son makes a face.

“Because it would be wise to have one, it's for protection.”

“Well what if the other person thinks you are a threat, just for owning such a weapon. Where does the line draw? Who is the problem?” He answers back, no malice or discontent in his voice. But truly asking the important questions.

“I...” Thinking, thinking, thinking.

Jim smiles, “It's alright, I don’t expect answers. No one has all the answers... not even me.”

Spock, who had been listening to this whole conversation lays there in thought. Thinking Jim's words over, such a philosophical display. It was interesting to say in the least. Finally, he sits up and immediately is at his feet.

“Sonak, you will stay here. Jim and I must have a walk, he needs to begin moving again to remain healthy.” Insisting as he swaths over in a half-hanging cloak, lending a hand to the human who makes no protest.

Gripping the Vulcan's arm, he halts at his feet, both of them staring at one another for a moment. Eyes wide and unblinking, Spock reaches his hand over to touch the human's face. Melding at contact, as if the situation called for it.

Out of nowhere, their bodies puzzled up this way into a semblance of unification that was here at last.

Jim gasps, grasping Spock's upper arms. Feeling as if submerged in hot water after a long year of nothing but cold

When Spock pulls away, it felt like the warmth lasted for, well, for an hour. Just a solid hour of perfect heat, comfort... as if. As if he were being healed in some fashion.

Their bond, it was their bond, feeling more vibrant. After the prolonged separation, their minds hungered and Jim realizes this for the first time. Out of the meld and in Spock's arms.

A clearing of throat, interrupted their staring session as Sonak remained standing there. Brow quirked.

In reality, only 5 or so minutes passed.

“Are you both alright?” Blinking, asking cautiously.

“Yes, we're...” Shaking the hesitance from his mind, realizing their plan for a walk was moot.

“Sonak, leave your father an I, we have much to accomplish in the time that we have.” Spock sounded as if none of this even effected him. Strong, willful, even though Jim knows that's not quite true and inwardly thinks about how unfair that is.

“May I go riding?”

By himself? Spock looks to Jim, they share a knowing look.

There truly is nothing for miles, and honestly, why prison the boy up in here when they needed to quiet to fix this mess of a situation.

“Yes, be home before dark.” Jim explains, hesitant, but understanding.

“Do not travel beyond the great dunes, if there is trouble. You return immediately...”

“Yes, yes, I get it...” Sheepish, he turns again “Thank you, I'll be home before it gets dark.” He didn't want to worry them, so he heads out taking a sehlat to explore the sands. As any Vulcan child would desire.

“He reminds me of you.” Jim intones, a sparkle in those topaz eyes, unexpected, in light of things.

“He is of my kind and that is all, we are nothing alike.” Spock says back, stalking over to the window to watch as Sonak treads through the path on a I'pa conservatively.

“Oh, on the contrary, Spock, I think he's more like you than you care to admit.” Jim sitting in piles of satin and fur, lays back to rest his weary spine, that playfulness still there. The Vulcan prince turns, a brow cocked towards that flat line of hair. Elegant, and alien.

“He's very smart, not as violent as most your kind. Curious, wise for his age, and quick on his feet...” Jim's eyes go shut for a moment, then they flutter up at Spock who stands at the window. Questioning his life choices and this human who is his supposed _T'hai'la._

“You seem to hold me in high regard, and you do not even know me.”

“You seem to think me pitiful and you, well, you know me more than I'd like to admit.” Jim counters, and eyes that seemed so whimsical and demure, had more of an edge. Challenge.

Spock, steps over to the palette, offers his hand.

“You know then, how we will fix this?” If Jim really could form the connection with him, he should.

“More or less... I just don't know how we can set this up to be more, efficient, really, you make it sound like its going to be so, easy.”

Taking the hand, Spock grabs a down pillow, sliding it atop the other next to the low seated table. Jim gets the ink ready, his t'hail'a, unrolls parchment.

“With enough time, the bond will grow stronger. At this close of proximity, I figure touch will not be required to maintain the link.”

“Oh yes, you are so romantic, Spock.” Sass, batting his gold flecked eyelashes.

“I am not trying to speak poetically. This is only the truth if you are as they say, my T'hai'la.”

“Well, I'm just a simple alien. I don't know anything about this or how this is even possible. But... I'm not complaining, not even a little.”

“I find that hard to believe.” Minor irritation in his voice.

“Well of course you do, I'm not even from here... but you, you're safe. I can tell.”

“I am the farthest from benign.”

“Oh I know, and that, my friend, is why I feel as though you, are safe.” A knowing little nod, Jim picks up the quill, dips it in the lush black ink. Reminds him of Spock, that ebony hair, like pitch waters of the _Thanar_ at night.

Spock takes his hand, two right hands linked diagonally across the wide, stone, table.

The smooth crevices of light nearly ebb away, when the other two hands up and press to the outer psi-points of each others face.

Jim hums pleasantly as that liquid heat fills him again, soft and honey coated in the mind of another.

And vaguely notices, their hands are moving in time. As the images of the places he's been. Near-perfect memory mixed with his own collide and become one in solid scribed lines on smooth expensive paper.

It feels as if it goes for hours, the map that Jim worked impossibly hard on for so long. Suffered for, blood sweat and eventual tears. Spock never imagined, fathomed, a human, an alien, could have survived all these things.

Here in the cavern of the mind of his mate to be, there is calling, there are memories, and a world he has only ever heard of played as clearly as if it were his own. Of Iowa, of San Francisco, and all the other incredible places his mother had told him about, but never showed him, couldn't show him, and Spock, was amazed, thoroughly a color of impressed. Aroused, impassioned; he wants to know more.

They had conversations all this time, and he never knew about Jim, didn't take the time to understand him.

But here he is, and in what feels like days of work, was hours.

And by nightfall, Jim can hardly move his hand any longer.

It is not an issue.

As Spock parts, Jim begins to churn backwards towards the ground, but the Vulcan is quick to catch him, lift him to the bed, and slide a pelt over the wounded human. Wounded in so many ways, Spock didn't want to venture down that path of thought. Especially not now.

From the corner of his eye, returns Sonak, who drops the body of a predator bird on the floor with a thud.

“I brought back this, and some _plo'meek_.”

Spock is colored impressed, even though he does not prefer meat. He knows his human and the child would need such a thing. And goes to preparing a meal with the fire pit outside. Taking every feather for his own bidding. He knew it would be of use for something later.

It is early in the morning when Jim wakes next, pressed between Spock and Sonak in the bed a sandwich of limbs and blankets. He watches Sonak, curiously, behind tired eyes, fixing his hair out of the necessity for touch.

Turning towards Spock only to be shocked as he is wide awake. Watching Jim, a mirror of curiosity.

“ _Perhaps the child is more similar to I than I hypothesized.”_

Right in his mind, Spock speaks without having spoken. Jim smiles.

“ _I told you so, when are you going to start listening to your human?”_

A pleasant growl vibrates the bed, inhuman to a point that makes Jim shudder.

“ _Does that please you?”_

Spock's eyes show an even deeper purse of confusion.

“ _That I am yours?”_

A huff of breath, Spock looks away, and Jim laughs through their bond.

Careful not to wake Sonak, Jim slips closer to Spock and runs his finger tips down bare chest while Vulcan ones trail up his bruised hips. They couldn't get sexual even if Sonak wasn't present, Jim wasn't exactly physically prepared for that.

But the way their lips press together for the first time, in a very long time, sends shock-waves of pleasure through both of their systems. Mind lit, body aflame, It's nothing but the soft sound of lips pressed to another, like rushing water in the dead of night.

Relentless and thirst quenching, Jim kisses with all he is and Spock is eager to accept. Not expecting the fierce insistent strength from one so wounded.

The dominance he could not explain, as Jim slips over to his side, cups his face and worships his mouth with the individuality of a man who is passion and wit. Desire and strong willed.

It terrifies him in the most thrilling of ways, that Jim knows how to lick into his dry mouth and taste his tongue. To bite upon a swelling lower lip, then suck as if he needed this as he needed his breath and soul.

Breathing careful not to reach a heavy pitch as a feverish quality overcomes their delicious press of bodies.

No words are needed, none are spoken until.

“ _The map, we did it, didn't we?”_

Jim asks, forehead pressed to Spock's.

“ _Indeed, Jim, it appears that we have accomplished what seemed to be the impossible...”_

Another laugh and the color is gold, everything about Jim, golden and desired.

“ _Well, then it looks like I've done my job here.”_

Spock's inner mind, confused, but he lays there.

“ _Job, Jim?”_

Jim curls up onto Spock's chest, wrapping a hand over the Vulcan's waist to listen to his heartbeat.

“ _Accomplishing the impossible? You know? I've got you in my bed, I exist, this all exists... seemingly impossible; but, accomplished.”_

A moments pause.

“ _I defer to your good judgment.”_

An actual chuckle that vibrates Spock's ribs, but Jim is soon to fall asleep. A pleasant warmth to sooth his system. As the hybrid lays in thought until those became dreams.

 

 

 

They take their time to let Jim heal, a handful of days to let the man sleep, eat, read, do whatever he pleases with the free time away from the pressure of society. A pressure Spock could feel, and no doubt suffocated the human and only could have added to any distress.

He spent one night with the telescope and Jim pressed to his side, they took turns viewing the stars and even earth in a distant tiny blue sphere. Incredible, that the blond could see his home from so far away and yet feel so completely unfazed.

No, he didn't miss it.

Okay so he missed his friends, but as his life turned out he got to mean something substantial to a planet thousands of light years away.

And meet this man, his supposed soul mate.

An idea that Jim always found ridiculous, and unrealistic in nature.

Now supported with something better than dreams or poetry, but the fact that a touch could evoke emotion, conversation and thought from beneath layers of what appeared to be hard Vulcan shell.

When they woke on the fifth day, Spock began to pack up for the journey home, dried meats and sliced vegetables ready for their trip. Jim who had the tastes of pleasure and passion, home, and memory in these last few days felt more alive than he ever had in all his years.

More at peace with himself and where he belonged, and more importantly felt closer to Spock than he could ever have imagined. Even though it seemed most of the time they were silent, this bond was nothing of the sort.

“I think I'm going to miss this place.” Says Jim as he mounts I'chaya, steadying himself and turning back to look at the seemingly nonexistent tower etched of canyon side.

“I share the sentiment, I will have to visit more often.”

“Don't you mean, we?” Jim asks, with that playful brightness Spock could no doubt ignore.

A backwards glance at Jim, Sonak sleepily curled up behind the human.

“Yes, of course.”

An uncertainty clouds Spocks mind, and Jim no doubt would feel it. Right now isn't the time, and so they venture off into Vulcan sands on a journey that seemed much shorter than the trip here.

Perhaps it was the delicate breeze, or the path well traveled.

But Jim knew, it was his healed body, soul, whatever have you. A lighter journey with a completed map tucked into his pack.

Once they got to the gates, people stopped to watch as they made way through the grand merchants and houses. Bakeries, and artisans, scroll shops and civilians gather cause they knew exactly who it was that trailed through their great city of blood scarlet and onyxed stone.

No doubt Spock could hear the murmurs of rumors, whispers of what would come to pass. His mother and father no doubt knew they were here. Confirmed when their mounts were taken, and the guards came to haul Jim's weapon away, yet Spock lifted a hand.

“Do not touch him.”

Shocked, but understanding, they back away and in their brief privacy, T'manda runs forward to hold her son. Weep softly against him, “Oh Spock, I didn't know if you would come back... if Jim would even survive--- how did you--”

“The Bond.” Jim answers simply, Sarek, entered the hall just as that was spoken.

“So it is.” The emperor, ruler, what have you, was only thoughtful as he gazed upon the human and his son, also very much human in the ways the hybrid would never understand.

Jim pulls out the map, carefully from his pack and treads to Sarek with a look of pure determined power. As if this was an honor, an achievement.

Keeping his head held high as he supplied the map, something that spoke power of this empire.

Sarek, looked it over, a real vision of impressed that had even his wife staring in delighted surprise.

“Come, we must start to prepare the halls for the feast and have this recreated for our libraries.” Sarek commands his servants to take Jim and Spock to their quarters, which are separate but not too far away from one another.

The Vulcan had his most trusted guard watch Jim's door, as Sonak also joins him to bathe, to redress and get ready for tonight's celebrations. From the sound of the bustling around the castle itself, many were already starting. The smell of spices and food, the scurrying playful sound of children.

Jim was still healing, and even still had to be wrapped with fresh bandages daily. Sonak, took great care this time in helping him. Standing on a stool to help get higher on the taller mans chest.

“Do you think Spock will actually take you as his bondmate?” His son murmurs.

“That’s, an odd question Sonak.” It is considering everything that has happened, he wasn't exactly ready to jump down into the tunnel of domesticity and stay there. Even if he had some... feelings for the Vulcan.

“Its just, where will we go if he doesn't?”

Ah, so, that's his angle.

Jim turns around and halts the wrapping process by holding the linens to his chest.

“We'll live here, maybe not in the palace, but I swear, Sonak, that whatever happens I'll take you with me. We'll have a home, and you will have your own room, and I will teach you more than you could ever imagine.”

Eyes like obsidian gaze up into Jim's in dark pools of wonder, curious and relieved. Jim presses a kiss to the top of his head. “And if anything were to happen to me, Spock would surely take you in as he has before. Remember?”

Unexpected, Sonak crashes into Jim's chest hard and knocks the air out of him, and, well, sends pain up his wound unpleasantly. But, he squeezes his eyes shut and ignores it, a small pained smile on his face.

“Don't talk like that, you're not going anywhere until it is humanly impossible for you to exist.” Sonak states as if its letter of the law, his father of another world, laughs.

Opening his mouth to say something, he's interrupted when there's a knock at the door.

A guard greets them in curious professionalism, “Alien, you are to go to the throne room at once, as will your son. Sarek asks for you.”

A nervous sigh, Jim nods.

“I'll be there in a moment.”

The guard accepts that, and leaves.

“Come on, we'll find a place to stay after we celebrate.”

Which was odd, it didn't feel like that big of a deal, that important of a celebration. Here he is, he already feels as if he has all he needs to celebrate for, a wonderful son, a--- a soulmate? And, a place to belong.

But in a room crowded full of people, windows uncovered, people outside await as well.

“Jim of the planet in the stars.” Sarek starts.

“You came to our home without invitation, you stood accused of murder and multiple counts of disturbance of the peace. Your sentence was to prove your worth, and you have brought us a map of our entire homeworld that has been proven accurate by the scribes and maps that we have today.”

Looking around, strong, and even in his demeanor, everyone seems to respect him and Jim, he can tell why. It's not hard to see how level headed this man is even in the times of disparity.

“For this, you are granted your rights back within Shi'kahr as well as a right among our people... but for much more, my son now dead, did not treat my sentence to the word. He went after you, and sought your death. You and your T'hai'la, killed him in a duel, tell me now, if I speak any lies?”

Jim steps forward, feeling naked although more clothed than the majority.

“No lies spoken.”

Sarek looks intrigued, “I offer you a place in my advisory, for your sheer wit, your talent as a warrior, and serenity as a father to a once orphaned child.”

Many murmur, and Spock who stands off to the corner of his father watches with nothing more but mild intrigue.

T'manda, simply put, looks pleased.

“You will be granted a place within the palace, I'pa, a room for your son and weapons for your protection. Do you agree to such an arrangement?”

Jim smiles, but could only look amused. “If I may ask, majesty; what does this job entail?”

People laugh, and for the first time ever, Jim see the widest smile spread across the older Vulcan's face.

 

 

 

He gets the position.

Sitting around the largest bonfire Jim had ever seen, and that's saying a lot do to his Iowan background, Jim watches as the priestesses and priests dance naked on a stage that stretches shadows into giant forms. Like a puppet show for an art major, what have you, interpretive dancing of the meaning “T'hai'la” is what he picked up.

The feasting well into the night, drinking, sex so clearly out in the open.

He had no idea what to take of it, only sit and watch the show.

Entering the sort of make-shift theater is Spock on the other end. Sonak was at home asleep now, but Jim, well, he found himself rather restless after all that time and rest.

Venturing down the ragged seating, this warrior from the stars hurries on towards Spock who turned once he saw him and started walking away.

_What the hell?_

Spock stops, Jim's curse through the bond obviously made him rethink walking away.

“Now now, Spock, whats the matter?” Looking stern, but most of all, angered.

“I have nothing to say.”

Which only makes it worse, when he starts walking away.

“What the hell do you mean 'you've got nothing to say', don't you want to talk?”

Spock stops, turns, “I came to you in your need, and now you have no use for me and I, of you. My father can no longer force my hand, and you are free to do as you please.”

Jim's jaw goes uneven.

“Furthermore, I have much to do, and I prefer not to waste my time with trivial celebrations of a task long over. Please, enjoy my fathers kingdom, it'll do you well in whatever time you have left to live in your alien years.” A sharp look, and then he leaves.

A gutted human, in every way, watches in shock and confusion.

Seems that men, even on this planet, are complete ass holes.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's not over guys! I promise!! :D Just a wrap for the main plotline, we're venturing into relationship territory and even a little more action! :D Thank you all for sticking with me for so long!


	17. Kah-Fi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'M A TERRIBLE HUMAN BEING!!! PLEASE TAKE MY SHITTY UPDATE WITH ALL MY LOVE...

Three months go by a lot longer than he initially ever imagined.

 

Everything was perfect.

He had his own house closer to the edge of the great Shi'kahr walls, close to the watch-tower barracks that made it easier for him to stay on alert during nightfall or be called upon by the king; which happened once in a while, and it was safe to say despite the luxury or the joy he received being with his son...

Jim was incredibly bored.

So later in the second month, he decided to start trade missions, create routes, and forward onto his new job of listing species. Sonak, of course, came a long most of the time. Reading scrolls and learning what ever math or lesson, Jim would spare on the journey.

Shorter, journeys, to be precise. Spanning a week at most, with plenty of help and assistance to spare.

While normally a fulfilling task, more than enough on this new and alien planet; the aching, empty, void, of Spock and their bond left much to be desired. Trying to meditate, seek the man out in his latest night meditation sessions. The peace and calm in his heart became a storm in his mind. Chaotic, and confused.

Normally he would see the Vulcan; whether it was on his way back as the prince talked to soldiers in the entry. Or in a trade city, accompanied by a few of his right hands in battle.

A dark stare, never a word spoken, never a spark through their connection, never a thought provoked.

Jim felt, as if he were slowly, piece by piece, losing his mind. Blaming himself for the inevitability, that Spock would never want any part of him ever again.

Then, he asks himself, why hasn't Spock tried to break the bond then?

So he drew up a plan, told Sarek of his idea who wholly agreed to an exploration journey that they wouldn't tell Spock of until the day of departure. Which, not coincidentally, didn't go down as well as Jim could have imagined.

Here they are, packing up I'pa for the adventure to span an entire month, when Spock shows up unannounced at the edge of the Shi'kahr. A face as cold as night on Vulcan, still strange and listless.

“Ah, Spock, I assume you know about our excursion!” He smiles, but it's not all there. He's not happy with the Vulcan, which only was fair after the sheer amount of cold shoulder he received. Sonak, atop their sehlat looks between them curiously, then pretends to be preoccupied with his scrolls. The boy's hair had grown shaggier and longer than ever. Barely tamed back with threaded beads. Bangs pulled back and clipped with a special crystal on bronze. Something a friend made just for him.

“I did not.”

Spock says, stronger than Jim expected; he almost jumped at the cool presence it demanded.

“Well I'm sure you understand; this is the sort of thing I do. I'm an explorer... and well.” A hand over at Sonak. “Like father, like son.” Shrugging his shoulders in the most human gesture he could have managed. Trying to piss off his betrothed and only scratching the surface in reality.

Spock says nothing.

“Oh come now Spock, it's just a month. Are you saying you really didn't know?” Blinking, Spock can probably tell he's omitting something. Who knows?

“You may not go, you have not asked my fathers permission...”

Sonak makes a huffing noise, but the both of them ignore it. Jim rolls his eyes, crosses his arms.

“Spock---”

“Actually.”

Jim's gaze adverts to the entry of Shi'kahr; Sarek stands in majestic form. Hair to his ankles and braided in many tassels to his ankles and clasped in gold.

His father in law of sorts, interrupted, and Spock turns to look in surprise that mildly purses his brows.

“Sa'mekh--”

“Spokh, I gave him permission to go. This is his destiny. It is his right.”

A nod at the golden one before them who smiles brightly. A cloth over his head that kept much of the sun off his skin.

Looking absolutely conflicted, Spock frowns.

“You cannot...”

Questions lay in Jim's features, while inwardly he's cursing this man all to hell.

“I cannot what? Spock, you do know I'm _only_ your betrothed. It's not like you intend on becoming mine, and I yours. What right have you to tell me what to do, where to go?” Questioning little look, he steps forwards a few paces. Testing, he was always testing his limits.

Pushing, pressing, prodding.

Unbeknownst to Jim, a storm raged in the quiet looking man before him just as one had raged in his thoughts all this time. 

“Spock?”

Crimson waters, ebony coals of Gol, the sienna tides of Thanar, the billions of shades in golden hues of a Vulcan sun set.

The way Jim looks at him with intelligent, curious, eyes that match the sands. Skin that blends with stone, hair that matches their vicious sun.

Thick otherworldly ruddiness that no other on this world held.

 

“Jim.”

 

And that was it, all these swirling emotions come full force into his mind, Jim feels what Spock feels, it's insane. Incredible. The pile drive of dream like substance, pain, fear, intrigue, desire.

Oh was that desire palpable.

That attraction fatal.

Not only is it emotional, a fully formed Vulcan is now pulling Jim up into his arms just as fast as he could get to him. Both hands gripping upper arms as if it were a form of expression itself. Bruising force, perhaps the first time Jim will see the color purple in weeks and it will be on his own arms.

There's no time to say anything, just a human kiss that Jim didn't nor never would expect. The blonde slips his hands up to Spock's chest, pectorals.

Flame. His body feels like it's been set on fire.

As thoughts that aren’t his-- or are they? Or were they? What is this?

Flickering and pouring as cool, near-dry, tongue, delves languidly into his. Everything else is ignored. Forever is in this moment, the past year melts around them like ground plo-meek on the hearth.

Outwardly, not a sound is made.

 

_Spock, you do know that I'm an explorer. I can't stay all the time._

 

_Do explorers leave their families on your planet?_

 

_Sometimes, but, Spock I don't really have a family here..._

 

A pause, both their hands now have slid up to each others faces, their kissing still not entirely through.

 

_Then I will endeavor to change this._

 

Both of them open their eyes, because a sound of Sonak laughing shocks them out of the meld. Sarek was watching, a slight smile on his face in obvious approval. Spock, balks under the gaze.

“It was about time.” Sarek sighs out, relieved.

Sonak laughs even louder, I'pa making a humming noise in some sort of agreement only animals could muster.

It was like waking up by being thrown under ice-water; both of them stare wide-eyed at the two. Jim, smiles broadly. Proud of his small accomplishment in spite of everything he's been handed in this odd life of his.

“Well...” Jim starts, chuckling.

Spock turns blankly at Jim, then with a single up-stretched brow.

“Took the words out of my mouth.” More laughing on Jim's part, until even though everyone was laughing with mirth, Spock made not a sound. Except, Jim could have sword he saw a small side-smirk on his Vulcan's face.

“Shall we have dinner?”

Sarek interrupts the laughter, the staring, smiling even bigger than before.

“Or would you not want your betrothed with us tonight?”

His son looks rightfully scolded. Turning to Jim as if to say something, but instead, he sees two outstretched fingers just for him.

“I'm alright with that if you are... _T'hai'la_.”

The bold proclamation, just like that, in front of his father and everything melts him once more. Now that he allows it, now that he accepts this, it's as if he feels everything he's ever wanted hit him in a gust of winds worth of time.

“Jim.”

It takes him a moment, he meets those fingers with his own only after sensing the fear in his betrothed’s emotions.

Sonak jumps off of their mount and heads to his grandfather; who with a hand at the small ones shoulder guides, leads, them to the fortress. They speak of the stars as Jim and Spock silently follow with fingers linked. Many of Spock's people staring, murmuring. Neither of them care, because the private conversations they can have are much better than the drivel of the general populous.

At the head of the floor seated table, is Sarek, and beside him Jim, in front of Jim is Spock, beside Spock is T'manda, and Jim, Sonak.

A real family's dinner, for the first time, Jim doesn't feel so alone. For the first time its less daunting.

 

_I never thought you'd want to see me again. Talk to me like this-- I missed this._

 

His alien fiance was all curious glances and interesting conversation.

 

_I did not think, I would suffer such complete... attraction to you._

 

Jim huffs.

 

_You make that sound like some sort of affliction..._

 

Supper was marvelous and just as it seemed like it was about to die down, Jim can hear arguing and see it from the corner of his eye. Wait-staff and someone, squinting, then deciding it was just Vulcan's be Vulcan's.

 

_Perhaps it was, until I realized your presences' full potential._

 

_Thanks, Spock, glad to know I make you sick!_

_Jim..._

 

But the human is laughing, which halts Spock's attempt to explain his thoughts on the matter. In fact, there's that smile Jim swore he saw earlier at the stables outside of Shi'kahr.

That’s when _it_ happens.

Jim hears a crash, then the door to the dining room swings open violently. A roaring cry of anger, Jim stands up just as soon as he could, seeing it just as Spock did, both of them completely attuned to one-another.

Both of them dive into the direction a ceremonial lirpa is thrown.

S'var.

Syboks scorned T'hai'la.

“You bastards! Kre'nath!”

He screams, wickedly, thrashing as guards catch him before he can get halfway through the room.

Spock, caught the lirpa just before it could completely run through Jim; that, would have been bad.

Instead, the blade made a small slice through the humans pectorals, through his tunic, a soft trickle of blood. T'manda went to Sonak, and removed him from the room as everything was dealt with.

Spock handed his father the lirpa, who nodded at his son in respect. Glaring at S'var as they take him away.

“I should have avenged him! I will avenge him! Scum!” The last of S'vars' words cut off by heavy doors being closed.

Spock can tell with the stronger link, Jim is okay, but now he's checking the new drink Sarek received for poison after sharing a nodded look. Jim settles up to his feet completely, using a table napkin to dab at his chest. Walk to the balcony and away from the sort of father-son private moment he doesn't want to intrude on.

It's with this and a full view of S'var being dragged to the dungeons outside of the city, he thinks about what state his relationship with Spock was, and if he was going to still be allowed his freedoms even if bonded.

 

Now, perhaps, he realizes just what Spock was so scared of.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, yes, SEX next chapter. I wanted this to fill in Some of Spock's stupid behavior and show you that Jim can now feel /why/ Spock felt that way. It's as if it all clicks now. Hm? 
> 
> Also, please RnR I had such a hard time writing this chapter. You have no idea!


	18. svi'eshikh heh visak'a

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cast out fear.  
> Cast out hate and rage.  
> Cast out greed and envy.  
> Cast out all emotion that speeds entropy, whether it be love or hate.  
> Cast out these emotions by using reason to accept them, and then move past them.  
> Use in moderation emotions that do not speed entropy, taking all care that they do not cause another pain, for that speeds entropy as well.  
> Master your passions, so that they become a power for the slowing of the heat death.  
> Do no harm to those who harm you.  
> Offer them peace, and offer them peace again, and do it until you die.  
> In this manner, you will have peace, even if they kill you.  
> And you cannot give others what you have not experienced yourself.

Do not ever say Spock was a dull man; he always seemed to do just exactly what was aligned in their lives.

The human who'd seen so much of the universe, and ironically so little, seemed to be just as passionate about the stars he could see as when he was up with them in a ship above. Who could blame the former star fleet captain, for loving what he'd loved since he'd realized what they were as a boy. A little telescope, vintage of course, lined in brass, he'd peer up into the sky with awe. His father proud of him, his mother laughing at his insistence to be a rocket ship and soar into the cosmos of their high-grass back yard.

The boys in school who told him he was crazy.

The boys in school who sat by him in awe when warp was made capable. A video of what they could see, was being repeated over and over on t.v. He turned and gave them the biggest shit-eating grin he could muster.

This time, he gives a soft grin that carries a wisp of light from his heart, snuffing it out with feelings he couldn't understand.

"You know, I've known you for such little time. But I know you so much."

Jim says into the nothingness, but senses his betrothed stepping behind him.

"We've been linked together by mind for many moons, Jim. Hardly is that little time." An insistent Vulcan, something seems to be on his mind but Jim can't really decipher what. "You'll need to teach me that." He hums. "The whole, keep-my-future-husband-from-hearing-every-though--" Cut off with a mouth to his, tasting him; there was nothing sweet about this one. It dripped something else, something dark and visceral as the taste of Spock becomes common knowledge. His smell is also his own, his touch is wind on his skin, hot and dry, delicious, pulling Jim by his chest and swirling constantly. A vortex he willingly steps into and always has.

Mind obliterated, Spock stops all thought process until after what felt like a lifetime he pulls away.

Panting, actually and truly breathless. Jim is too, but, the sight of Spock anything but perfectly functional. Well, it's irregular as it is incredible.

"Jim... we must..." Stepping back a little, resting his forehead on Jim's as he controls his breath and might.

"I don't want to sleep alone again, ever again, Spock." Jim says unapologetic as ever, boldly, as he always was.

"Then you would..."

"Yes." He says with a hissing after taste, desire, wanton and full as he pulls on Spock, needing him closer. "Spock. Please."

His bond-mate, his.

The Vulcan lifts the man, right over his shoulder which was a huge shocker. Making the human yelp out in surprise, laughing all the way to Spock's room. Arms dangling, legs still to keep balance. "You fiend, you." He huffs through a bout of snickering, tossed onto a large bed of sheets, pillows, a single pelt that made Jim curious; not curious enough to ask of course. His mind, is on other things that feel way more important at this time.

 "I am no fiend, Jim, you are an alien on this planet and thus, play part as a fiend very well." Spock has a soft smile but its not as if Jim see's it while he's rolling around on the pillows and trying to catch his breath.

Spock joins him with a pounce, tearing the tunic off of his mate with ease and through the air. Replacing it's coverage with his own mouth, tasting Jim already. It's everything and nothing Jim has felt before. Wild and exotic; somehow he feels as if it was destined. It was, he reminds himself, by an alien race far beyond the stars casting shadows into these crimson dunes with their plans of salvaging.

Deliberate, his Vulcan lover laves his tongue over his weak neck, his thickened pecs, his glistening skin with sweat and now Spock's saliva. It's stickier than he imagined, somehow all it does is make things worse as it cools when the nights breeze picks up. Sending his heated skin aflame, shivers down his spine; or is that his lovers fingers?

That grip and tug into his column, mouth languidly kissing across his body as if he could melt Jim down to his vertebrae.

"Jim." He says, the humans name never sound sweeter. Never felt so correct.

_Spock..._

He says through the link, his Vulcan freezes a little as if scalded, hissing a little. It's a wild note Jim had never heard in such a quality.

_I need thee_

Spock's voice is deep and rumbled, a bear in its cage, a sehlat being pet and groomed.

_Spock please, please, Gods, please..._

_Jim-- I have been, and always shall be, yours._

"Spock!"

Jim writhes, undulating already despite the grip that trails to pin his hips into the bed. Causing devastation in the waiting period to come, Jim gasps and looks at the Vulcan with a double take. Cheeks verdant and flushed, beautiful, his, Spock's hair in a long braid that he lifts his fingers through. Wanting to unravel every piece. "Look at you..."

The look on his face, despite every attempt to seem unaffected, is thoroughly wrecked. Large, obsidian, eyes, Jim can barely see the whites of them with how large they've grown. "Spock, just, do you have any idea how beautiful you are?"

"I am not." He says shaking his head, turning away from Jim's gaze, but the human won't have it; grabbing his chin with force, tilting it up to his.

"Now listen here, mister, you are, you're perfect, I always thought you were a sight for sore eyes." A half smirk right at the Vulcan, then a wink, which draws Spock's intrigue further into abandon.

"Jim--" He hums.

Soon the tides turn, Jim straddles him with one big shove that takes more energy than he'd care to admit. Bare, naked, pushing Spock's member up against his rear, rolling his hips in gentle, precise, moments. "Ah-ah- Spock... baby--"

His lover seems to get the hint, pushing up, mouth ajar if only a little. Eyes wide for a moment, "T'hai'la-- by my bed, on the left... I have oil..." Spock starts, almost, and Jim wants to die of joy because it almost seems as if Spock is shy. It's down right precious. With a smile and a nod, Jim laughs retrieving it deftly. "Now come on, Spock, I have to ride you _and_ prepare my own self? Gee, a bit unfair don't you think?"

Spock tilts his head all curiously, again, so cute, it's killing the blonde just watching him so much.

"You misunderstand..."

"I'm kidding Spock..."

His lover looks amused, pulling a hand to rub against Jim's erection, up his groin, abdomen well formed but not chiseled as his own. Up the smooth chest, shaved and sweaty. What a weird thing, salty liquid pouring from this mans skin like rain, a rare gem in the desert of dry and barren sand.

"I want you to have me, you deserve more than I, but I--" Blinking, shy again, Jim's heart leaps out of his chest. "I wish to have you inside of me. Forever and always, touching and touched."

Jim ends that sentence with a deep kiss, pulling into him and gripping with all he had, he can't get enough, grinding while trying to lubricate his fingers with oil. Slicking them up with precision. Around his drooling cock, then his T'hai'la, then lower. Rubbing around his hole with ease, learned hands that hadn't been intimate in some time. In what felt like a lifetime before. A life that wasn't even his. Tugging on both of them in tandem.

"Ah-Jim-"

It's kissing, and teeth, body's reeling and pushing into one another in harmony. A warrior of human descent, lifts large and dense legs up and around his waist so he could slide in snugly. Press deep within the Vulcan's body with his thick and dripping member.

Spock was much bigger than him, but Jim managed to put his human biology to the test. Sliding rhythmically; managing to once, and only once wring a sound out of his Vulcan lover. Who starts to grunt, huff, pant as he prods deeper and deeper. "Spock-Spock-- Ah-"

_Shall I make us one?_

_Spock?_

_Shall I make us one and the same, forever?_

_You can do that here?_

_Bonding? Yes. Jim. I can complete our betrothal here beneath you._

_Yes, gods, yes, there isn't anyone else I'd rather belong to._

A hand slips up his chest, his neck, to his face, a cool surge right through every inch of his skin.

No more words, through touch or mouth; it's all the sound of skin on skin. Slapping of sex, and slick sounds of oil to cock. Jim losing his mind in this, in all the pleasure, into Spock's enjoyment that bleeds through in millions of colors. Where the sound of breathing in heavy pattern is all that fills their aural senses. Primal passions, all this time and tension rolled into one moment that is so incredible... Jim's struggling to keep in reality.

Speeding up as they go, he can't tell how long it's been. Doesn't care, just thrusts precisely where he wants to. Losing himself to the sensation of sex and his lover beneath him. Their minds melding into a perfect whole. "T'hai'la!" Jim gasps, Spock answers by gripping tighter, clenching down, rolling into the thrusts.

When he loses himself, control, everything with a generous climax. Filling his Vulcan lover, brother in arms, best friend in spirit, to the brim and groaning in answer to Spock's growls of desperation. Hot, thick, come, covering Jim's groin and the Vulcan's abdomen in his own release. Sated, but not parting, not desiring so, not ever. They follow through with wide eyed looks into each-others eyes. Spock holding his face, covering his cheeks a moment, but Jim pulls them away to realize something pressing from Spock's tear ducts.

"I..."

He's crying.

"Spock..."

"My race does not inhibit this ability..."

"Mine does."

Jim says, gently, a smile on his face, leaning up into their mess without care so that he could kiss away the few sporadic tears that fall. Holding his chin, only to kiss his Vulcan thoroughly.

"I like it..." The human makes sure Spock isn't embarrassed of his human traits, and never would be again on his watch.

Spock pins him, and well, he didn't think his libido made it possible b-- here they go again...

 ---

The morning arrives, and Jim is curled up in blankets and atop something warm and welcoming. Although he's beginning to sweat as the planets' brilliant sun starts to make its way into the horizon through the long and open windows.

_We're... one._

Jim says, wistfully, snuggling his face into Spock. He never wants to get up again, he'd much rather stay here for now. Although the planet and its unexplored calls to him, so does the faster heart beat below.

_Indeed._

Jim starts upward, not expecting an answer, but smiling at Spock.

Their moment is interrupted by a knock, loud and insistent on their door.

"Come."

Spock say's, Jim looks at him like he's mad, then again, remembers that Vucan's have no goddamn shame. When he moves to cover up, Spock tugs Jim back close with a low growl. A warning to stay, that makes him laugh a little.

"Jim..." Blinking, Sarek enters the room. Obviously looking surprised, didn't expect the two to make it this far this quickly. _T'hai'la,_ indeed.

"My son. It is... good to see you've both settled all of your differences." A smile, Spock doesn't look amused.

"Yes, so it is obvious that we are newly mated. Why do you disturb my chambers?"

Ooh that attitude, Jim covers his eyes, and lets his hand slide down his face; already sick of his shit.

"Spock, it is important, otherwise I'd leave you to your mate and your... activities." Shrugging, "Spock, Jim... I am not... inclined to go into much detail. Not here. Meet me in your mothers part of the garden when you have both... recuperated."

"We'll be no more than an hour, Sir, you have our word." Jim answers immediately, despite the growl Spock makes.

_Spock..._

"Gracious of you, please, refer to me as Sa'mekh. I'll be waiting, patiently. My Sons." Then there's no more dawdling. As if; his naked child and his bonded are hardly a sight he needs at this hour of the day.

Hurrying back to his drawing room, but without appearing as though he was. In fact, he holds a proper air and countenance of a King instead. While his people and court watch him curiously. Always curious of a king so unique, intelligent and also more eloquent than any other of their time. Truly, the most peaceful 182 years they've ever had, and that is with two large battles in the process.

"Where was Jim?"

Amanda says, breaking him out of the deep thought process he had just now realized took over his mind for much too long a time.

"He was with Spock."

She blinks, "How are they?"

"Well, I believe..." Sarek answers, something hesitant only because he was trying to figure out how to explain this without being vulgar. Amanda only pries further. "You believe?" Brows furrowed in obvious worry. "Ah My wife, they shared a bed last night. I did not expect to see them entangled as quickly as this, it appears they have not separated since last evening."

The way she glows, Like nothing else could on this harsh planet of heat and desert. This, he realizes, is why he fought so hard to keep her here, to keep her safe and at his side.

"This is good, yes? The news you give them will not discourage them nearly as much as we thought---"

Sarek, smiles at his wife. Never holding back, instead he steps forward to join their hands and share a sweet kiss, before drawing apart.

"I agree, with your infallible logic. A'duna."

\---

Jim spent a lot longer scrubbing than usual, but by the time they return to the Queen's garden, it is nearly mid-day, the sun is at its hottest and the people are inside feasting and sparring in the great hall as usual. A Vulcan tradition most loud and rambunctious as Jim found out nearly a year ago. It feels as if it had been centuries, yet here they are not so far from the day he arrived, in personable attendance of the King and his wife. Bonded with Spock, the Prince... and he never thought life could be quite like a fairy tale until now.

Then again, some crazy and downright inane sort of fairy tale this turned out to be.

"My son's, It appears as though you've completed your Bond. Your right, your katra." Sarek, now officially ready to confront this and make things final.

There's be no call to audience, no large crowd, Sarek simply goes to Spock. Hands him a large lirpa, more akin to a scepter in Vulcan gold alloy.

"My Son."

Spock stares with wide eyes, Jim is obviously confused.

_What just happened?_

The human asks without looking at his mate, Sarek not only hands him this, but a shawl of chain armor over the sensitive side on a Vulcan's frame. Where ones heart would be on this planet.

_I've been chosen as King, effective immediately._

Jim openly gapes, staring between the two with uncertainty. T'manda stands this time, a smile so bright it knocks the two Vulcan's away and only makes Jim unable to smile right back. "My husband is not nearly as young as he was before your birth, Spock." She explains, a sadness in her eyes. "We are not to leave as tradition holds, but stay and help him to health as you take his place in Shikahr."

"You are unwell." Worry is obvious through their bond, but Jim doesn't elude to it, just stands strong as his bond mate's support.

"Only thus, but I'm afraid such responsibility has only made it worsen in the years gone by. Especially with the betrayal of thy brother." Sarek explains, Amanda holds onto his arm with compassion he doesn't push away.

"I see." Spock looks to the scepter that he holds with two hands outward. Gripping tight as such responsibility is laid upon him after so much has occurred in such little time. Two weeks ago, he may have thrown this to the ground and denied his place here. But now as Jim looks at him so reverently, his mother fondly, a bond burning so deep and full in his katra.

"I accept this with honor, Sa'mehk." Holding it to his side, then strapping it onto his back with ease. Watching as his mother hands Jim a multicolored shawl she'd wear outside of the fortress grounds. It was made with silks and riches beyond compare of any kingdom, and by Spock's great grandmother who now resides in the _katric arc t_ o hold his peoples traditions.

"I--  I don't know what to say? Mostly because I'm not sure what your people would say in order of tradition..." Jim smiles painstakingly.

"Then just say what we'd say on earth?" A smirk.

"Well, thank you. For this, it is a blessing, and a privilege to work at Spock's side." Jim answers, then, they hug, which jolts both Vulcan's possessive behaviors. Yet, they do nothing, realizing this was such a human behavior, alien, and the reason why they found solace and home in such odd and both pleasant beings.

"Thank you." She answers in kind once she pulls away, looking fondly at her new sons.

"He is so much more with you, and you with him. I can see it already." A chuckle.

"Well, I can't say I don't agree."

And with both aliens smiling at them in such a way, if their planet were to somehow discontinue to exist now; they'd leave knowing such brilliance existed and never feel remorse in their conclusion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This shit was way to long---I needa cut it---
> 
> Meh--fuck. I'm gonna have one last chapter for sport. Live long and prosper my friends.


	19. Vafer-Tor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kol-ut-shan- Diftor-heh-smusma.

**Five Years Later**

* * *

 

 

"Spock, Sonak sent us a message this morning. The temple hood has it in for him more than usual." Jim says, almost gruff, sort of having it up to over his head with the entire situation. Everyone was actually rather happy about the transition of the fortress. Spock and Jim were respected, no one ever even tried to deny them their right as T'hai'la. A sacred bond, given from their ancestors, spoken from their souls.

He's 100% sure, that his mate is somewhere in their quarters. But without a proper response, a slow tingling of doubt settles that the man has even risen from his meditation. Which would be odd, especially because for the past few years Spock and Sonak had it down to a science. Profound discussions that made Jim proud to say, this was his family. Even if Sonak had slowly left the roost and begun his own legend. In kind, it was incredible but also terrifying to watch someone you've raised and loved for so long to grow and not only grow seek to change everything and anything he could set his hands on.

With a sheepish smile, Jim remembers his academy days.

Remembers teaching the boy, now more a man in some means, become wiser than his years in wisdom.

"Spock--"

"Yes, T'hai'la. I am well aware that he has set upon his mission. I gave him my blessing, for I do not think it is something you could...understand." Blinking.

As time went on, Spock only grew in stoicism. Logical, overwhelmingly so, along with Sonak in this odd sort of way. But then again, Jim didn't mind; to him it was a sign. That these Vulcan's he'd learned so much about. Battled with, fought for, created for were capable of so much more than a life of rape and murder. A travesty, but here is his lover so completely caring, touch that spanned through the layers of skin and into his heart; no, his katra.

Even so, the fact that neither of them eluded him to the fact that Sonak took off for some reason, made him wary and upset. The Vulcan could tell with how Jim's brows pursed in defiant query.

"He told me of his decision, 6.9 days ago. I could not dissuade him, nor would I choose to." Spock explains, as if it were really that easy.

"You shouldn't keep things like that away from me Spock." Jim's voice grows deeper in his anger, to which his mate responds with silence.

"He asked me for the sake for your feelings, that I do not express any of my thoughts until he had contacted us with mentions of embarking upon his journey." Spock explains, Jim groans absolutely trying not to get too angry. 

"He's still very young. Are you seriously telling me that you think he is ready for something like this? Walking away? I don't think that's wise." Jim argues.

"No." Shaking his head. "Yet he is your son, and he is not leaving completely. He intends on coming back in six sol moons time." A solid explanation, sure it calms the human down a little. But he still can't help the ache in his chest, as his son left and now he doesn't know what to make of this letter.

"Then could you tell me, why the templehood is so damn up in arms about his decision?" A frown, lifting his hands in exclamation to prove a point, before settling them on his hips.

"Because he took, half, the temple hood acolytes with him in his descent."

Jim's eyes look seriously upon Spock, shock, almost a dismay, worry, emotions flood him but he keeps them controlled before.

"Spock, you need to give me more to work with here. I'm confused..."

"As I figure the Temple is, as well. Do not be discouraged, Jim. We all will find our way in time, our son, is intelligent with a future bright to look forward to. Perhaps, it would be wise to wait and let time do what it must."

"And that is?"

"Pass Jim, more importantly, with I beside you." A look, a soft half smirk. When before it was heated and fiery, aggressive and new? It now was refined, lovely, gentle and wonderful. Jim steps up to grip Spock's upper arms, look him in the eyes. "Taluhk nash-veh k'dular."

"And I thee." His Vulcan answers, before they're sharing breath and kissing becomes unity in their home on the floor without remorse or regret.

 

**Six Months Later.**

 

It is hot, but it always is. Jim would say it is hotter than most days as he waters a few cactus in hopes their fruit will arrive. When in the distance he spots a sienna hued blur. An image that distorts itself in mirage and desert heat. Squinting, Jim cups his eyes to get a closer look. Alerting his T'hai'la through the bond, and watching closely as what appears slowly becomes what he thought it might. 

Spock, slowly follows behind him as he makes a mad dash across the sand, his scarf slipping off his head, His son! His son is home and-- there is a caravan with him. And they are fully dressed? Their hair is cut short, severe, around their ears. Faces shaven, piercings removed. There had to be a hundred of them, if not more?

"Sonak?"

His son, who he calls to as soon as he's close enough to hear, doesn't answer. Only raises his hands in greeting of their people. "Sa'mekh. I am Sonak no longer."

Jim blinks, confused and almost frightened at the prospect. "What ever do you mean?"

Something so, void, emotions gone, in fact if Jim thinks about it. All the others behind him on their mounts, seem similar, very similar.

"We took journey to Gol. The priesthood there saw my ways, father." Young, so young but so wise.

"To... Gol."

"We are within a modicom of logic. We have decided to forgo emotion, to obtain peace. The ways of our people has gotten out of hand, you are alien, I would not expect you to purge as I have. As my people have...but Spock--"

Spock places a hand on Jim's, steadying him for this blow.

"I have chosen the ways I believe are best. Logic, my son."

A slow nod, Sonak extends another salute. "From the day I left, and this day forward. I will no longer be Sonak, that being was emotional. Young. Illogical..."

"Then?" Jim, confused, watches in awe and some hurt. A pain taken when ones child grows up, although this one grew extremely fast.

"Surak, Sa'mekh. I will take the name Surak, and unite the temple... into a school of science and logic."

Jim smiles, brightly, but pain is in his eyes. Surak, looks confused, almost, just barely.

"You do not approve?"

"I do."

The air is open and cautious.

"But I will miss you, Surak, even though I bless your journey." A bittersweet smile, then a look at his mate. The rest of his people lift their hands.

"We have the king's consent, let us set aside our differences and focus on the needs of our people. Until logic prevails, we are merely a beacon for those who live here."

"Fathers, live long, and prosper."

 

So, they did.

 

_**End** _

 

 


End file.
